Domestic Violence (Seren and shooter6806)

[shooter6806]

Domestic violence.  Domestic abuse.  Whatever you want to call it, it affects more people than we imagine.  Less than half of all domestic abuse incidents are reported to police, and despite improvements in laws regarding domestic abuse, even when they are reported, the response is often less effective than it should be.

In real life, I’m a police officer.  I’ve handled literally hundreds of domestic abuse calls.  I’ve had male victims, female victims, children victimized both directly and by having to watch their parents beating one another up.  I’ve dealt with everything from too much harsh language to murder/suicide.  I did it all with the detachment necessary of a professional, and however sympathetic the victim was and however horrific the crime was, I kept my feelings out of the situation. 

All that changed earlier this week. 

I’ve been writing with Seren here on Elliquiy for almost three months.  She’s fun to write with, and we PM’d each other several times a day.  We respected each other’s privacy, but we developed the kind of friendship that is quite common here.  A couple of nights ago we were PMing each other as usual when she started sending me messages that were deadly serious and frightening.  “Please tell me you’ll be here for me.”  “I can’t do this any more.”  “I’m scared.” 

After a bit of coaxing, she told me that her husband had beaten her up a couple of days before, and that he had started again that night before passing out.  I told her to get out, call 911, go to a friend’s house.  She was too embarrassed to do that.

Then she went off-line.

It’s still difficult for me to think about that moment.  Here’s a woman I had developed a real friendship with, who wanted my help and comfort.  I didn’t know if her husband had killed her.  I had no way to contact her.  I didn’t even know her real name.  I had never felt more helpless than that instant.

I dithered for about an hour.  Then I remembered something she had mentioned to me about her real life about a month ago.  Google is my friend.  It took me about forty-five minutes, but I found her real name and the town she lived in.  I finally managed to contact the police there, and told them what she had told me.  The next half-hour was one of the longest in my life.  By this time it was after midnight.

Finally I got a PM from Seren with her cell phone number.  I called her and we talked.  For me, domestic abuse was no longer an abstraction or something that I deal with and wash my hands of.  I felt like my insides had been twisted around several times.  Our friendship has turned from an electronic abstraction to something very real. 

I contacted one of the Elliquiy staff to find out if there was any way to help members who might be in abusive relationships, and this blog was suggested to me.  Seren agreed to write it with me and give the perspective of a real victim.  Obviously, we won’t be giving out any identifying information, but we’ll try to share what we’ve experienced and hopefully be able to help members who are in trouble.

If you’re in an abusive relationship, don’t be ashamed or embarrassed.  Get help.  Suffering in silence is the worst thing you can do.

[ElizabethRayne]

I'm glad to see this written and hope others take notice.

I myself dealt with abuse I had always said the moment someone I loved hurt me like that made me feel less then I should that I would leave. Yet a year and a half into dating my ex I was hiding bruises from my parents. Pretending everything was ok.

I kept telling myself everything would be ok he didn't mean it. He told me all the time how much he loved me Howe would kill himself if I ever left. Said if I ever cheated on him he would kill me. He made me feel as if I was not worth it that no one else would want me or would want to put up with my whining.

When I finally left him it took the support of my friends and family the hardest thing I did was admit everything to my mother. I canceled my cell phone got rid of our house phone I was spending a good deal of time at a friends house that I thought my ex knew nothing about they had just moved in to the place.

When I left one morning around 3am and saw him standing down the street on the corner looking up at the house I went back inside and the next day was when we started with the restraining order.

But he used to do that to me a lot drive by the house at all hours show up at my job and just sit on the parking lot.

I left that behind and it was is if he was still in my life. The best day I had in a while after that was a day he didnt drive by the house or show up at my work.

Eventually he stopped all together and I hope he found help he always promised me he would see someone about his anger.

Not everyone steps up or feels they can leave but you can. No matter the situation if someone is hurting you that is not right. Do not be afraid to ask for help everyone needs it from time to time it does not make you any less of a person.

Seren I'm glad you at least spoke to someone about it and more so I'm glad it was Shooter  I've been PMing and RPing with him for awhile and I am beyond glad he was able to help.
I hope this blog helps someone in need or even someone in the dark about how serious this problem is in the world.

[ManyMindsManyVoices]

"May I say that, there's an undercurrent of something I think is equally important here that I feel should be brought up more than it will be. I want to applaud you, Shooter, not just for getting involved in a domestic abuse situation. I want to applaud you for seeing someone online and remembering there's a person there. I want to applaud Seren for giving you her number and asking for help, despite not seeing your face before then (at least not in person), and also I want to applaud her for asking for help at all. However, I feel plenty of people will address that aspect of the situation and as important as it is, I would rather focus on the thing most people will ignore (or at least bypass).

"Too many people treat the internet as a place where trolls, creepers, and evil-bad-men lurk. Despite the fact that more internet relationships may at least include a lot of falseness, I hate the stigma attached to it. You both agreed to see people instead of letters and avatars, and that's something I appreciate greatly. I hope that, as terrible as this event was, it brings you two closer, because that would take something awful and make it something awesome (not the event itself, obviously, but the fruits of it)."

"I'll note that reasonable skepticism and caution should always be taken, but that's true of face-to-face meetings as well."

"Seren, I'm glad your safe, and that you found someone you could trust here. One great friend is better than a thousand acquaintances, be it online or off."

[Seren]

If there was anyone in the world who should know not to hide domestic abuse it should be me, but then again I never thought it would happen again.

I am a 911 Dispatcher.

I am the calming voice on the other end of the phone when abused women reach out for help, I am the one who asks all the right questions, the one whose calm voice goes across the air waves to the police officer sending him into a dangerous situation to protect the ones in need. I am the voice that remains calm, as the person on the other line screams, the children cry, and the perp yells threats of bodily harm. I listen to the victim still being abused as their loved one hits them, calls them ugly names, and yes I have even heard one woman being shot, (she lived). All the while and for hours later I wonder why doesn't she just leave him.

I am no stranger to domestic violence, I grew up with it, watching my father beat my mother and myself, until she divorced him, he continuing the emotional abuse on me until I cut ties with him. My step-brother and step-sister sexually and emotionally abused me when I six years old to the point if I had to go see them I would become violently ill. I will refrain from going into the trail of abusive boyfriends my young attention seeking self allowed into my life, or the amount of self abuse I inflicted to cover and cope with my pain.

My first marriage began when I was 16, three months after having my oldest child. I should have known it would go bad when we fought on our wedding night, he wanting to party with friends and I wanting to stay home and care for my baby. I lived with him for thirteen months, during which he never balled his fist and hit me, but he would pick my 100lbs body up and throw it like a rag doll against the wall if one toy was out of place when he returned home from work, I had to beg my mother for money for diapers because he had $100 dollar a week drug habit, he only made $150 per week, but that was okay I needed little food because he had told me when I weighed 125 that if I gained 5lbs he would leave me, therefore I lost weight. Although to some 100lbs might be an ideal weight, with my large breasts, very prominent cheek bones and broader frame I appeared more like skin stretched across bone.

My having turned from a natural redhead to a platinum blonde did not help this death warmed over look either, but he had preferred blondes so blonde I went. At the thirteenth month mark, I threatened to leave him, in response he took my son into our bathroom locked the door and threatened to kill him with a butcher knife if I left him. I lived 10 miles from the nearest small town in the middle of no where, with no phone and no way my then 90lbs body could break the door in. My begging finally worked and he handed me our son but again locked the door saying he would kill himself.

He did not, I ran to a friends house and they returned to stop him, but not before he had ripped the bathroom sink from the walls with his bare hands. My parents came that night, I was ready to leave but they said I had to think of my baby and marriage and I should stay and work things out. I tried for one more week, then it was over for good.

Several months after that divorce I re-met my current husband, I had dated him before my first husband and had been deeply in love with him then. Our love rekindled, he also going through a divorce and having a beautiful daughter of his own. By the time I was 20 years old I had been married, divorced, and remarried, and had 3 children, his, mine, and ours.

I was a stay at home mom until our youngest started school then I became a dispatcher, working the midnight shifts for many many years. Between he and I everything was perfect, yes he had his jealous streak but I just changed what I did to be sure he had nothing to be jealous of. Such as, if I talked about a funny thing that an officer did and it upset him I didn't talk about it anymore. If I did anything that upset him or made him jealous I immediately stopped it, even my brother who has a party every year for he and his wife's birthday and anniversary, with many of the friends I went to high school with in attendance, one year I drank a little much and kissed the cheek of an old friend and rubbed the knee of a new friend who had told a joke, since he became jealous, I never attended the party again.

Fast forward a couple of years, I become director, sheer twist of fate, but as such the Alpha has to come out, I am now responsible for every action each of my girls make. While surfing the net for something fun to do I run across E. My dream come true, I have always loved to write, to be creative, I write a sex scene, well not to boast but it is the most in detail thing, lol. I think that I am a hum drum writer until so many people praise me and pm me with compliments that it strokes my ego, delightfully.

Hubby gets jealous, but this time I cannot let it go, I revel and come alive as each person tells me how much they enjoy my writing, innocently I flirt with them all knowing I am married and do not want to change that.

The first time he hit me, he was drunk, and I was sitting on the side of the tub waiting for him to pee so that I could help him upstairs, he slap me out
of the blue with no warning what so ever, he didn't even remember doing it.

Over the next three months, he hit me, tried to rape me in anger, and treated me me bad. I still refused to give up E. I know that would make things better but I shouldn't have to. If I allow him to look up and talk to as many naked women as he sees fit he should be able to deal with this. I do not sex pm only RP and friendly pm, but he became jealous even if I said ' Hello good morning how was your day?' He began to check everything I did.

He chocked me so hard one night that he burst a blood vessel in my eye, I lied and said I fell, my police officer and dispatcher friends did not believe me but did not challenge me. The last straw was when I was talking to Shooter nothing big but he had a fit, he was drinking again and off his meds and I feared for my life. Too embarrassed to reach out to anyone who knew me I wanted Shooter to stay with me until he passed out. and during the argument i shut my computer.

I should not have done that, I should have talked to him more but I was just afraid. He has open handed hit me, choked me until a blood vessel burst in my eye, slapped me and punched me and tried to rape me twice. Yet he is still the love of my life and I will try with him one more time, but this is the last time.

It is important for me to add that he has never done this before and that he has been going on and off meds for depression while still drinking off and on, while this is never an excuse, this is the reason I am giving him another chance. I do love him and he was the last person I would have ever thought would have done anything like this.

Shooter is my hero, he found me and sent an officer friend to help me, bringing it all out in the open. I love him as a friend.

If you are experiencing ANY type of abuse please contact me or Shooter we will do our best to help you.

[Wyatt]

Domestic violence is the ugly underbelly of our society.  It exists everywhere, hiding in the places one would least expect to find it, being hidden by the unwarranted but seemingly unavoidable shame that its victims feel, the sense of hopelessness and isolation that its perpetrators carefully and skillfully cultivate and because far too often those who can help turn away…precisely because it is something so ugly and vile that our minds wish to make believe that it doesn’t exist and that it is someone else’s problem.

If you are reading this article and have not been the victim of domestic violence, then you are amazingly lucky.  If you don’t know anyone personally who has been the victim of domestic violence, then you simply don’t know what you don’t know.  The victims are everywhere, they are your sisters and brothers, your mothers, your cousins and aunts and uncles, they are your friends and your co-workers.  Whether you know of the abuse, suspect it or are completely fooled by it, trust me, it is there.

So this is not your problem, my problem or their problem, it is everyone‘s problem.  I am one of those people who befriended Seren on this site, wrote with her, watched her come out of her shell and spread her wings in a way I could tell she had not done before.  It has been brilliant to watch, she is an amazing lady, as so many on E are, but she is a truly special lady to me. 

Not too long after we began to write and pm, and yes, fun and light flirting was involved, with both of us knowing that we were married in our real lives and had no intentions of changing that, she explained to me that her husband was reading her stories and her pm’s, deleting bookmarks and acting very jealously.  To that end, I wrote her a pm, really meant for her husband, and I believe Shooter did too, explaining all of that.  Explaining that we didn’t even know each other’s real names, where we lived, that I was married and not interested in anything but friendship and good writing, and so forth.  Seren told me that her husband read those pm’s and was a little better about things, understood the innocence that even the sexiest words can have.

I run a game outside of E, one that is adult, but not erotic in nature, more sword and sorcery type fantasy.  For the first time ever, I invited someone from E to join that game when I invited Seren to join.  I had any number of great reasons to invite her, she is a great writer and role player, a dear friend and a devoted player, but in the back of my mind, I also thought it would help things with her husband if she had a place to write outside of E, some place he didn’t consider ‘dirty’ and ‘perverted’. 

And even then I heard from Seren that he was upset, because on that site, a very small group of tight knit friends, including my own wife, we use our real first names in OOC discussions.  So now I knew Seren’s real first name and she knew mine, but nothing had changed and she was playing in a game with a bunch of completely harmless and geeky old guys like me and my wife. Everything was good, right?  Clearly not.

In my own life I am no stranger to domestic violence.  I was sexually abused as a child by two different ‘family friends‘.  I saw my sister, who is nine years older, marry an abuser, divorce him and start dating a guy that was even worse.  I grew up and chased both of those bastards off, but along the way I saw their methods, saw the damage they did physically and mentally to her and to her children, my niece and nephew.  It happened to friends and co-workers of mine, including one woman who left and went back to her abusive husband at least a dozen times.  I helped when I could, even had my house broken into when a friend of my wife sought refuge from her abusive husband in our home.

I worked for 13 years in the medical field, and met more victims of abuse than I care to count or remember in the emergency rooms and clinics…and even then, saw the frustration of the police and the nurses and doctors and social workers as lies and excuses were made up by the victims to protect their abusers.  The abused were children, women, men, old and young, rich and poor.  Age, sex and how much money one has never matters, abuse it omnipresent and it doesn’t discriminate, I learned that it affects everyone.

In real life I am an attorney now, having gone back to law school in my 30’s.  While I don’t practice directly in a field where domestic violence is my focus, it I impossible to avoid and I deal with its effects frequently.  I see how powerless the system can be at times, how it works at others, but I never, ever forget that the victims are people.  Through my church I work with displaced families, mostly young, single mothers and their kids, and the incidence of abuse and violence in their lives is staggering.

Is there a point to all of this rambling?  Yes, there is.  Through all of this abuse she was experiencing I talked to Seren every day via pm here and in my game.  I have experienced domestic violence in far too many forms, seen it, lived it, and am trained to deal with it professionally for many years…and yet a woman I know as well as one can know someone on-line, a smart and resourceful 911 dispatch director, and someone I talk and chat with every day, was suffering the kind of abuse that Seren so bravely and courageously described above…and I simply did not know. 

I knew she had a jealous husband and even knew some of her history of experiencing abuse as a young girl and woman, learning that she had written about her real life in one of her stories, and yet, not until I read this blog did I know or even suspect that my friend, my incredibly talented friend, with a heart of gold, a truly beautiful mind and a very strong woman, was suffering this horrendous abuse all this time.  I didn’t even suspect it.  That should be a wake up call to anyone who reads this as much as it is to me, that domestic violence can hide right in front of you even when you think you know what to look for.

Nothing I can do can change the fact that I was ignorant of what my friend has been experiencing, but I can do something going forward.  We all can do something.  There are resources in every community from the police, district attorneys and Legal Aid agencies to shelters, counselors, help-lines, churches, hospitals and social service agencies to help people deal with domestic abuse.  The kind of assistance they offer is often the first step in lifting the veil of hopelessness and giving back some of the self-worth stolen from the victims of abuse.  That can be the most critical step, letting the victim know that there is another way, that they don’t need the abuser in their life, that it isn’t their fault and that people do care and will help.  This blog is now one of those places.

I know how these systems and agencies work, how to find them and where to go to seek their help.  If Seren and Shooter will have me, then I will throw my hat in with them and offer my advice and assistance in these areas to anyone who needs it.  Send me a PM, ask for my email, whatever it takes, I am in.  Whether it is you or someone you know, ask questions, offer your help and comfort, urge them to get the assistance they need, do something. 

I can’t express how shaken and upset I was to read this blog tonight and to see what Shooter and Seren wrote, to learn how little I knew, nor can I express how little my feelings matter…what does matter is moving forward and helping and being there for my friend and for anyone else who needs any kind of help we can provide.

[Outsider]

Reading these very powerful texts in here, I fear I have trouble expressing myself in a coherent way.

I admire you for your strength, both of you.

Our friendship has turned from an electronic abstraction to something very real. 

This is how it should be. No matter how distant we are, we still are humans. Anonymity makes people treat each other without care way too easily.

Reading this brings tears to my eyes. Partly because of compassion, partly because of fear. Fear that I might be the same some day - another man who will treat what he loves and wishes to protect like dirt.
This has run in my family. No, that is a weak excuse. I will not blame it on a gene pool. But the fear still lingers whenever I meet somebody and engage in a relationship. The fear that I might be the same. The fear that I am not strong enough to control my aggression, my frustration, the fear that my hopelessness and depression will bring me somewhere I don't want to go, threaten with something I never want to threaten.

I am aware of all of this. Up until now, I have never beaten a person I love. Violence sickens me. I want to keep it this way. But I am not strong, how do I get the strength and confidence to not become my greatest fear?
I fell in love with someone who was in an abusive relationship. She had so many emotional scars, I just wanted to be with her. She asked for time, and I failed - the first sign of my own weakness. I kept chasing, kept pressuring. What, if in 5 or 10 years, when I have somebody I would call my soul-mate, the same happens? I feel my weakness and can't defeat it?

I think there are many men who feel the same. I'm not afraid to show it, to admit I am not really all that strong.
I think I am rambling, reading over my own point, it is hard to see what I want to say. I don't even know myself.

So I will finish it like this:
Thank you two for this blog, from the bottom of my heart. You raise awareness of something that gets hidden within society so easily, and should not. Awareness is a very powerful tool and can go long ways.

You are amazing, Seren. I wish you the best of luck, and hope everything works out well. Hope that he changes. Because from these simple words written in here, I feel you deserve happiness.
You are a hero, Shooter. You ignore what most people seem to think so common on the internet, that people are "not real". You saved someone, keep doing what you do.

[shooter6806]

I’d like to thank the Elliquiy staff for allowing us to do this blog and to the members for reading and participating.  Some responses to the replies so far.

-Lizzie:  Many thanks for your input and for sharing your experience.  You gave me bare bones details about your ex a while back, but I didn’t know it was as serious as that.  You and I have been writing together for a while, and we’ve developed our own trust for each other. 

-Ryuka Tana:  You present a different take on the situation, and your point is well-taken.  Who do you trust?  Where do you decide that someone who has only been words on a screen is a real person who either needs your help or is offering help that you need?  I believe that there are more good people in the world than bad, and that the relatively few bad apples on the internet tend to scare people because of the damage they can do.  In our case, the nature of our jobs gave us common ground and we were both able to tell that the other was being honest about the essentials.  Some things you just can’t fake by watching police shows on TV.  Many thanks.

-Wyatt:  I felt exactly the same as you did, and it was the luck of the draw that it was me and not you that Seren told.  We absolutely not only will accept your advice and assistance, we actively request it.  I think that to you and me, our RP partners are more than just e-friends.  They are real people with real problems, and if we can help without crossing privacy lines, we should.  Thank you for your support of Seren and this blog.

-theoutsider:  They always say that the first step to solving a problem is admitting that there is one.  The fact that you recognize the possibility that you might feel aggression sufficient to cause violence, and that you want to avoid it, means that the biggest problem has been overcome.  Most abusers don’t think they’re doing anything wrong.  If you ever actually find yourself in a situation where you’re tempted to take the violence route, my advice would be to back away immediately (I know, easier said than done, but you seem to have the ability to think through your feelings.  Use that).  Then (I know it’s the standard answer for this stuff, but it works if you want it to) get some counseling.  Anger management (No, not the movie) can really help.  I’m not a counselor or psychologist, I’m a cop.  Maybe someone else here has more specific ideas for this situation.  Thanks for your input. 

And finally, my dear Seren, I know the pain it caused to write your post.  We will write together forever, and we have a friendship that goes beyond anything I thought possible when I joined this site.  I’ll always be here for you.

A couple people here have called me a hero.  I'm flattered, but in reality I was just trying to help a friend.  Sitting at a computer screen and making a couple key phone calls is not my idea of heroics.  It's just doing what is right. 

Again, thanks to all.  I look forward to more input, advice, critique, and discussion.  And as always, anyone wishing to discuss anything in private with us is invited to send either of us (or both) a PM.  Anything you tell us will be held in strict confidence.

[ManyMindsManyVoices]

Reading these very powerful texts in here, I fear I have trouble expressing myself in a coherent way.

I admire you for your strength, both of you.  This is how it should be. No matter how distant we are, we still are humans. Anonymity makes people treat each other without care way too easily.

Reading this brings tears to my eyes. Partly because of compassion, partly because of fear. Fear that I might be the same some day - another man who will treat what he loves and wishes to protect like dirt.
This has run in my family. No, that is a weak excuse. I will not blame it on a gene pool. But the fear still lingers whenever I meet somebody and engage in a relationship. The fear that I might be the same. The fear that I am not strong enough to control my aggression, my frustration, the fear that my hopelessness and depression will bring me somewhere I don't want to go, threaten with something I never want to threaten.

I am aware of all of this. Up until now, I have never beaten a person I love. Violence sickens me. I want to keep it this way. But I am not strong, how do I get the strength and confidence to not become my greatest fear?
I fell in love with someone who was in an abusive relationship. She had so many emotional scars, I just wanted to be with her. She asked for time, and I failed - the first sign of my own weakness. I kept chasing, kept pressuring. What, if in 5 or 10 years, when I have somebody I would call my soul-mate, the same happens? I feel my weakness and can't defeat it?

I think there are many men who feel the same. I'm not afraid to show it, to admit I am not really all that strong.
I think I am rambling, reading over my own point, it is hard to see what I want to say. I don't even know myself.

So I will finish it like this:
Thank you two for this blog, from the bottom of my heart. You raise awareness of something that gets hidden within society so easily, and should not. Awareness is a very powerful tool and can go long ways.

You are amazing, Seren. I wish you the best of luck, and hope everything works out well. Hope that he changes. Because from these simple words written in here, I feel you deserve happiness.
You are a hero, Shooter. You ignore what most people seem to think so common on the internet, that people are "not real". You saved someone, keep doing what you do.

"Outsider, I've been there, actively, I've hurt someone I loved. I am still with her, our relationship was physically and emotionally abusive and it went both ways. The reason we're still together (and stronger for the hurt) is because we both hated it, we were damaged and hurt and stupid and we took it out on each other."

"As Shooter said, the worst of it is the ones who hit their significant other to 'keep them in line', because that's how that works for them. They think the abuse is how the relationship should be progressing. They don't know how to get angry or fight, without resorting to active aggression. I think there's a stigma attached to violence in our culture that implies if you ever do it, you're doomed to be an awful human being. It's a bad stigma, it makes people believe that, it makes them give in to that. Aggression and violence happens, sometimes you lose control, and it's awful. However, you can lose control without instantly being a bad person."

"What you need to do is let go of the stress, because it will drive you to it. Stop concerning yourself with not being angry or violent, because then you're focusing on anger and violence. Focus on being happy and productive and loving, it keeps your mind from latching onto those negative feelings. Personally, I'd say that you should also embrace the negative feelings and take control of them, but first you should stick to trying to focus on the positives."

[Seren]

There are stages everyone should be aware of, the cycle of Domestic Violence.

The cycle usually goes in the following order, and will repeat until the conflict is stopped, usually by the survivor entirely abandoning the relationship. The cycle can occur hundreds of times in an abusive relationship, the total cycle taking anywhere from a few hours, to a year or more to complete. However, the length of the cycle usually diminishes over time so that the "making-up" and "calm" stages may disappear.

1: Tension building phase

This phase occurs prior to an overtly abusive act, and is characterized by poor communication, passive aggression, rising interpersonal tension, and fear of causing outbursts in one's partner. During this stage the survivors may attempt to modify his or her behavior to avoid triggering their partner's outburst.

2: Acting-out phase

Characterized by outbursts of violent, abusive incidents. During this stage the abuser attempts to dominate his/her partner (survivor), with the use of domestic violence.

3: Reconciliation/Honeymoon phase

Characterized by affection, apology, or, alternatively, ignoring the incident. This phase marks an apparent end of violence, with assurances that it will never happen again, or that the abuser will do his or her best to change. During this stage the abuser feels overwhelming feelings of remorse and sadness, or at least pretends to. Some abusers walk away from the situation with little comment, but most will eventually shower the survivor with love and affection. The abuser may use self-harm or threats of suicide to gain sympathy and/or prevent the survivor from leaving the relationship. Abusers are frequently so convincing, and survivors so eager for the relationship to improve, that survivors who are often worn down and confused by longstanding abuse, stay in the relationship.

Although it is easy to see the outbursts of the Acting-out Phase as abuse, even the more pleasant behaviors of the Honeymoon Phase perpetuates the abuse because the survivor then sees that the relationship isn't all bad.

4: Calm phase

During this phase (which is often considered an element of the honeymoon/reconciliation phase), the relationship is relatively calm and peaceable. However, interpersonal difficulties will inevitably arise, leading again to the tension building phase.


I obtained this information from Wikipedia but I have read them in text book and have been taught them in many trainings over the years.

Please pay attention to these, as I am doing now, if this is happening to you, or someone you know and do not feel that you can contact myself, Shooter, or Wyatt. Contact someone, anyone, don't ignore it get help.

Please

[ManyMindsManyVoices]

"May I say that, in my experience, Stage 3 is the part where things go most wrong (I know, seems like Stage 2, is, but a single abuse is not the worst part). If a guy rationalizes what he did or is just callous about it, you should get out of there, at least for a while. You grab your kids (if you have them) and go, at the next possible opportunity."

[Seren]

That is the hardest part to leave during because they are so very much like the person you fell in love with, they are sweet, they dote on you, bringing you breakfast in bed, or rubbing your back, helping with laundry, and more.

That is why I set the list on here this is the fall back in love stage and it is very hard when you love someone not to think that this is a new start, the pain of the hit is over and if this man, this one you love so deeply for so many years is back in his rational mind, how can you not forgive.

If you are in this stage talk to someone.

[Elina]

This thread is an amazing service.  I was a prosecutor for twelve years and have dealt with my share of domestic abuse, too.  Awareness and feeling like you're not alone in your suffering?  Those are the first steps toward getting help. 

[Chris Brady]

Man, wow.  *Sends positive waves to everyone here*  I am lucky enough to never have been, hopefully never will be, but these sorts of incidents break my heart.

If I do have one thing that bothers me, is that both of you, Seren and Shooter6806 bring up a valid point that the rest of society conveniently forgets:  Domestic Violenc/Abuse affects everyone, I remember reading a study in that it occurs at a pretty much 50% split among women AND men.

All around us, we see (Especially up here in Canada) movements to end violence against women, usually revolving domestic and cultural issues, but no one mentions that it might be occurring to men and boys either.  I wish I knew how to make a movement to promote an end to ALL domestic abuse no matter who is the victim, no matter gender, creed, race or age.  It's not right, no matter who the victim is.

[Beguile's Mistress]

I volunteer at a senior residence and learned that older parents and grandparents can often become the targets of abusive children and grandchildren.  Just as medical and school professionals are trained to look for signs and report them our senior citizens need that same observation by those around them.

I applaud the courage and willingness to help that you and everyone are doing in this thread to throw light on this topic and give people a place to go for help and advice.

It takes courage to speak up and ask for help and I know that our members have that courage and our community has the fellow feeling to help.

[Elina]

Our local DA's office has an entire team dedicated to elder abuse and fraud, BeMi.

If anyone ever has questions about the legal aspects or implications of any of this and don't want to ask openly, my PM box is always open. 

[Chelemar]

That is the hardest part to leave during because they are so very much like the person you fell in love with, they are sweet, they dote on you, bringing you breakfast in bed, or rubbing your back, helping with laundry, and more.

That is why I set the list on here this is the fall back in love stage and it is very hard when you love someone not to think that this is a new start, the pain of the hit is over and if this man, this one you love so deeply for so many years is back in his rational mind, how can you not forgive.

If you are in this stage talk to someone.

Serena,

I understand what  you are saying, "How can you not forgive?"  You can forgive, but you can't forget.  The reason you leave here and go to a safe place is this is your best time to keep communication open for them to get help.  Having them just say that they won't do it again isn't enough.  If they have said it before and yet did it again, well guess what?  They will do it again.  If you are gone to a safe place, and they agree to counseling, quit drinking, take their meds properly, and go to anger management, and actually complete their programs so that they prove their sincerity, then you have something to work with and they prove their love and devotion.  Otherwise...

We can't live in a fantasy of hope.  I know.  I was there.  For six years I was in an abusive relationship where my partner would call me names, cheat on me openly and repeatedly while being horribly controlling and jealous.  I would do just about anything for her.  I cared for her while she was in a drugged stupor, and took her back each time she left me for someone else and promised to quit drugs, or being abusive.  I had begged my first partner to get help, she always promised, but would never follow through. Not long ago she was arrested for terroristic threats.  She never changed.

  When I finally got the courage to break it off for good, she stalked me, tried to use family to get to me.  Threatened suicide, etc.  I still loved her, but with counseling and distance, I had finally learned to love myself enough not to accept what she was doing.  I finally learned that what she was doing wasn't love, it was possession and control.

   

And dammit!  I deserved to be loved too.  Two years later I met the woman who is the true love of my life, Jated.  And what I thought I had with the first one, was really nothing at all.  I couldn't believe it.  Now, we've been together 8 years, and I couldn't be happier.  It is hard at times, a lot of it in the beginning because I wasn't used to being treated nicely without having to "earn" it, or without having to "pay" for it. 

Whatever happens and whatever you decide, I pray that you and your children are safe and that the best works out for you Serena.

Shooter, thank you very much for your dedication to a friend and for going that extra mile and taking care of Serena and even possibly her children by your actions.  Yes, you are a hero for what you did. 

~Chele

[Vekseid]

After banning one of the creepers, I had a discussion with one of our other banee's victims. About he'd manipulate her and try to force her to do things.

"But he called me beautiful."

"Did he say that you were beautiful, or that he thought you were beautiful?"

"That he thought I was beautiful."

I never have to guess, it seems.

I've written two different posts about this. They cover very specific sorts of behavior that you should not tolerate in any relationship.

Talk to someone about it. Always.

And if it's happening on E, let us know.

"I am strong enough to handle myself."

That is awesome. But some people are vulnerable and desperate. By making what has happened known to the authorities in a community, we can investigate before they reach these people.

And make Elliquiy a little bit safer.

[Vekseid]

Also, with respect to contacting other members versus contacting staff regarding outside-Elliquiy situations:

I would really prefer that an interrogatory or subpoena is not a surprise to me. If the instigator in an abusive situation is aware of Elliquiy, they might go straight for us instead of or in addition to your own computer records. Please let me know.

[Viper]

My father left my mother when I was four and my sister was only turning 6. My sister and are a year and a half apart and we...we never agreed with anything. Before my father left, he introduced my mother to a really nice guy.

Meet K. W.

The first two years were great, since mom had gotten into a car accident K. was helping us. He moved into our house and everything was great. He was an amazing cook, his mother watched me at day care while they worked on weekends, and christmas was epic! 

But I started growing up, since my sister was older she understood everything happening around her alot better, and she also had friends to talk to. Where I...had none. Soon enough, my whole life became about him. From rubbing his shoulder and legs after work, to making his lunch before I went to school and his dinner at night. To cuddling up on the couch with him at night and watch star trek.

I didnt understand that these things were what big people were supposed to do togeather...not little girls like me. My mother worked and went to college and my sister had school and extracurricular activities. I on the other hand...didnt know how to function with out him telling me what to do.

So..middle school hit...I started to realize more and more about relationships and such. But to me it was like a harsh blurr. Since i was in fifth grade I had been doing drugs, and as I got older...it got worse. Soon enough, K was buying it for me and I was completely at his mercy.

What I didnt know was that he also had a fixation on my sister. One day I came home and she had a wrap around her wrist, she said she fell on ice...but I know what knife wounds look like. I have several of my own. Back then I laughed at her and said "you shouldnt have talked back". Ive never seen a more terrified look on my sisters face in my entire life.

So from sixth to seventh grade, I started stealing. Everything I could get my hands on, money, jewlery, shoes...from K., my mom, my sister, my friends, stores...he would beat me every time he searched me and found something new or when he found something missing in the house. I relished the attention, because now, all the kind and soft attention he had was for my sister, she was the pretty one, with long poker straight brown hair, beautiful green eyes, huge breasts, she was very developed for her age.

I was jealous, she was stealing all of his attention...he was my dad...he only looked at me..hes mine!

Those were the only thoughts in my head back then...thoughts only of him and he was a god in my eyes. He could do no wrong and we deserved it all.


And here...was when everything changed...

The summer after 8th grade hit, and this was the converstation that was had.

Mom: We are moving out.

K:Oh? we are? where?

Mom: No me and the kids are moving out, your staying here.


And that was the end of it, my grandmother had come up from florida and with one box each, we jammed as much of our things into the boxes and put it into the car, drove over to our new house, dumped it out, and then went back for more.

I cried the entire time, I didnt understand why, but now when I look back on it I do. I remember instances where my mom would start throwing his things out of her room...and then he would grab her by her hair like he did to me, and pushed her down to the floor and made her clean it up. I knew they were having sex because our room was next to theirs, but now that im older, I know that those sounds were just too violent to be consensual.

Then my sister called the cops, telling them that the last time her and I visited his apartment, he had molested, and had done other things to her. After that my world crashed down around me. Now..I couldnt see him, I snapped, I attacked my sister right there in front of the cops and told her to tell them that she was lying, she refused to change her story.

I dont know how I lived through the trial, my mom wouldnt let me show up for fear of the defense getting ahold of me and using me for his side of the argument.


So we moved into our new house...I was starting high school...I didnt sleep because i was sneaking out of the house all of the time. After watching my friend Kera almost die from overdosing and damn near killing herself, I quit drugs cold turkey. Suprisingly enough...my mom never knew I was on drugs, maybe it was denial, but she treated my withdrawls as a bad stomach flu.


I was that goth chick at school, I never talked, always got beat up after school, everyone picked on me, I was the girl that guys liked to fuck but never claim in public.

At home, i couldnt function untill my mom got home because I had to ask her to do anything. To use the bathroom, to eat, to change the channel, to take the dog into the back yard...finally...my mom flipped out on me. She couldnt stand to be my slave driver anymore. She told me to do as I pleased...she told me to actually live.

So I started to..but that same summer that we moved out...my sister tried to commit suicide. She was sent to the psych ward and I saw my dad for the third time in my life. I hated him he was causing my mom pain because he was going to take my sister from her when she got out of the hospital. I hated my sister for causing my mom so much pain...and me as well.

The funny thing is, I completely understand my sister now, because the next year, the summer of my sophomore year...I too left my mom to live with my father. I was going insane, K. had to only serve 18 months in jail..and since he was out, I desperatly wanted to see him, so for my own sanity, I begged my actual father to come get me, to save me from going back to K, I loved being free now, to be able to breathe...I was afraid that if I ever saw K. again...that I would fall under that same spell...and I would never get free.



So I graduated in the south at age 17...im now 19. I have lived only 7 years without K's influence over me...and I still cant manage to connect to people. I stay at my home, I use the internet to find a source of happiness, and through E, I have found friends that I can talk to.

I wish I could say that my experience with domestic violence hasn't scarred me...but it has. I wish every day that both the physical and the mental hurt would go away, that I could stop thinking about the past..about him...but I cant help myself, I was brainwashed through the most crucial part of my child hood...for 9 years I suffered and I didnt even know it.

Please...if you live with someone, who does things to others that seem normal but just doesnt look right...or you see signs of child abuse, both mental and physical..please tell someone...dont leave people like me and my sister and my mother to suffer because none of our friends or family told anyone.

The signs are hard to see, but if you have any inclination...send an annonmys tip in, send Child protective Services to interview the child...something. Because knowing that people care...and are trying to help you...that is the best way to help some one start recovering. Help stop the problem of sexual and physical child abuse. Because...that could be your child this is happening to.


Thanks...
Karia

P.S. Alot of my thoughts from back then are jumbled, not to mention it is very hard for me to talk about this because these wounds are still fresh inside of me, so if the time line is hard to follow, im sorry.

[HarleyQuinn]

I too am a victim of domestic violence. That is such a hard sentence for me to even type because the fact that I admit to myself I feel like I'm weak and it's my fault even though, I truly know it isn't.

For the past six years I was on and off with my ex. We are now off for good but he hasn't quite gotten that picture. I've moved away from him and the only people that I left my forwarding address to were my parents. I made them promise me they wouldn't tell his parents because even after all the stuff he did to me, my parents were still good friends with his parents. I suppose that's their choice to make and I can't demand them to not be friends. Maybe I'm being a little selfish.

Our relationship started when I was 16 and he was 18. Everything was great the first six months we were together and then slowly he started to change. I thought I was in love. I was 16 and he was my first serious boyfriend and I convinced myself that his actions were nothing out of the ordinary, that I could live with that if were to get married. It first started with questions like who are you hanging out with, who is so and so, and why are you friends with so and so. Of course this so and so people were guys. He told me that they liked me and that they didn't respect the fact I was his girlfriend. He had said it so sweetly and I believed him. So, I dumped all my male friends. Then it turned to the point where I had no friends left. Except my best friend who refused to let me go. That angered my boyfriend one night and he had me pinned against the wall, his hand around my throat squeezing to the point where I thought I was going to pass out. I've never been more scared in my life and in the midst of his rage, he broke my wrist when I was struggling.

I went home that night and had to explain to my parents that I had fallen down the stairs and that's how I broke my wrist. Unfortunately, I don't think they believed me right then because his house didn't have any stairs. At my healthiest weight, I weighed about 125. I'm no means skinny for my 4'11 frame but I wasn't overweight or at unhealthy weight. During the course of the abuse, I dropped weight and I was down to 98 pounds. I definitely wasn't healthy looking and that only spurred on the emotional abuse on by him.

I know I'm skipping along, so please bear with me.

I was 18 now and the emotional abuse was worse than the physical. I could handle the physical pain. Just not the emotional. I began dropping more weight from not eating and at the lowest weight I weighed 88 pounds. My parents sent to to rehab for anorexia and also forced me into counseling. I thought that counseling was for weak people and I wasn't weak nor did I realize I was a victim. I thought because he was still with me that I must be something special, despite all the emotional and physical abuse started.

When I was 19 and after a year of counseling and rehab, I finally realized that he wasn't the man I ever wanted to be with. So, I broke it off with him. I made the mistake of having him come over when my parents weren't home, since they didn't like him, to tell him. He got deadly quiet and then suddenly started screaming curse words at me and then he hit me across the face. In all the times were together, he never once hit me where people could see it. I felt his fist connect with my jaw and nose and then when I tasted blood, I knew he had broken my nose. He grabbed me by hair and when I struggled and screamed he crushed his hand over my face, smashing my already broken nose again. I quieted down and he dragged me upstairs to my bedroom. I knew what was coming and yet I didn't struggle. I just sort of froze. I thought, this couldn't really be happening. He was the one man that I lost my virginity too. He was my first for many things. First kiss, etc.

Long story short, he raped me that night saying that's what good little whores get and then left. I laid on my bed for a good thirty minutes frozen and in shock. He had beat me senseless and raped me. My mother came home and found me and took me to the hospital and then the police came. They asked me if I wanted to press charges and I said no. The excuse I gave was that our sex was a little too rough. No one believed me. I didn't even believe myself.

Now, I'm 22 and for some reason, I still can't get away from him. I feel like he finds me no matter where he goes. He has served jail time but nothing ever sticks. I guess he has a really good lawyer. I took a break from E for awhile because I was home one night and he knocked on my door. I was terrfied and was quiet trying to make him think that no one was home. Unfortunately, I was stupid and didn't lock my back door since I had just come in. Next thing I know, he is in my house begging me to take him back, saying he wouldn't ever do that again. He couldn't even admit to me what all he had done. I lost it and thew my expensive laptop at him. I suppose I egged him on and we engaged into a fight. That was the second time he raped me after he had beaten me. Though this beating was the worst I ever had. I had three broken ribs, a concussion, my wrist was re broken and a broken collarbone. This time I did press charges and I'm assuming he's in jail for other crimes he has done to other women. I am back in counseling and I'm slowly learning to love myself.

[Seren]

I am so glad people are seeing the blog and sharing their own heart breaking stories and I hope it helps them and someone else who may read them.

Again if anyone needs to talk privately feel free to pm me.

An update on my story, or should I say an ending to the chapter. The night before last hubby was upset because he couldn't find his tablet, he began to rant and rave to everyone in the house and then began to drink, straight double shots of Vodka. I was again online with Shooter and Wyatt, waiting for my husband to pass out, keeping quite. He was not mad AT me so I thought it would be fine, if I just kept quiet.

Needless to say it was not.

Whether by accident or grand design I will never be sure. He hugged me from behind as I sat sideways on the couch in front of my computer desk, when I tensed up at his touch, it angered him and he pushed me away, my head hit the corner of the desk and made a mark which bled. He went to bed and began mumbling as he was passing out. Right after that my internet, TV, and phone went out (great to package thing isn't)

Shooter and Wyatt saw I went offline and could not reach me, therefore they again called in the troops for me, I had one State Police vehicle, the Sheriff of the county and EMS at my door quickly. Love all those pretty lights LOL. The Sheriff observed the blood on my head and the State Police arrest him and took him to jail.

He got back out and sent someone for his things saying he would never come back. We are now going to get divorced.

This man was not always this way, never once in all of the years that we have been together would I have thought that he would do this. But the mix of Colzapine and Vodka coupled by unwarranted jealousy and possessiveness was not a good one.

I have been told that Colzapine and liquor could have easily made me the victim of a murderous rage, which I did not know until today. I am thankful to be alive and will hope he gets the help he needs, without me.

[Mithlomwen]

I've typed a response, erased it all and typed another one, wash, rinse, repeat.  I'm unable to find words to express both my heartbreak and my admiration for those of you who have told us of the abuse you have suffered.  You all are amazing and wonderful people. 

I also wanted to thank Seren and Shooter for creating this blog.  My greatest hope is that it will be of help for others.  For those who might be currently suffering domestic violence, to realize that they can make it through, and that there is life on the other side. That they are not alone. 

Thank you all. 

[Seren]

Helpful hints

As a 911 Dispatcher here are some helpful things to remember if you are in a domestic situtation.

Call 911 Do not call your mother, or father, or best friend. Dial 911. The dispatcher will have questions that only you can answer.

If you only have a cell phone, be sure to give a good location.

Even if you your cell has no minutes or the service has been canceled you can still dial 911 from it. Remember to stay on the line and give a good location.

Landlines. A phone can be plugged into a jack at your home with no service and you can still dial 911.

Never hang up on the dispatcher, stay on the line. They will ask questions you will need to answer. Vehicle descriptions (think size, color, number of door, and any distinguishing marks, such as damage or stickers), directions of travel, vehicle plate numbers, number of occupants, any weapons involved.

Remember DO NOT hang up until the dispatcher tells you it okay.

[Viper]

Wow...truthfully...i didnt know any of that, thanks Seren!

[shooter6806]

Seren has given an excellent primer on reporting an incident of domestic violence and how to communicate with the dispatcher on the phone when you call.  I’ll give you an idea of what the responding officer is thinking and how to deal with him or her when they arrive.

When you call 911, the dispatcher will assign one or more officers to respond to your location.  On my department, a domestic incident is automatically assigned two officers, minimum.  This is to ensure officer safety and to make handling the incident easier.  Some agencies will not have the manpower for this. 

In some cases, you may not be the one who called.  I’ve handled many incidents where a neighbor saw or heard a fight taking place and called it in.  You may not have wanted to involve the police, but now here they are.  Whether you called, or someone else did, you have a man or woman on your doorstep who has a job to do.  And they have the authority to do it. 

Most police officers are on the job to help people.  Believe me, in most cases there’s not enough time to worry about hassling people who aren’t breaking the law.  I have enough to do dealing with actual bad guys.  The responding officer probably has no idea who you are, who your significant other is, or what the history of your dispute is.  They don’t know who is the abuser and who is the victim.  And their first concern is their own safety.  They are absolutely concerned with going home intact at the end of their shift.  Every situation is different, and the specific laws and policies in your jurisdiction may be different from somewhere else.  But a few simple guidelines will keep you safe.

First, DO anything the police tell you to DO.  If they tell you to sit, sit.  If they tell you to stand up, stand up.  If they ask you to wait outside while they try to interview your significant other, do it.  The officer’s primary intent will be to maintain control of the situation, and if you are not cooperating, you change from the complainant/victim to the problem.

Second, always be willing and able, even if you aren’t the one who called, to identify yourself accurately and completely.  Your full name, address, date of birth, and a phone number where you can be contacted are the items that the officer will need.  If you don’t give this information, the best thing that will happen is that the police will be around a lot longer verifying who you are.  The worst thing?  You could be arrested for any of several charges depending on the situation.

Third, if you are the complainant/victim or a witness, be prepared to tell the officers exactly what happened or what you saw.  You may be injured, in shock, fearful of your abuser or all of the above.  The interview might be taking place in your home, or in the emergency room after you were transported there.  The more information you can provide, the better.

In my state, any domestic incident where there is any evidence of any violence at all requires an arrest.  The officer has no discretion in this case.  You as a victim do not get to decide if the abuser will be charged.  That's up to the DA.  You as the victim can decide whether you want to cooperate with the police and testify against the abuser.   

The officer’s priorities in domestics, as with any disturbance call, are as follows, in order:

The officer’s safety.
The safety of any other law enforcement personnel.
The safety of any victims and other uninvolved persons.
The safety of any suspects.
Resolving the situation with an arrest or other action.

I don’t get paid more if I arrest someone.  I can lose my job if I allow someone to be injured or worse because I didn’t take proper action.

And just to please Elina and the other bloodsucking leeches oops sorry attorneys out there, I’ll throw in a last piece of advice.  If YOU are ever arrested, handcuffed, informed that you are a suspect, or read the infamous Miranda warnings, it’s probably a good idea to talk to a lawyer before you answer any questions or make any statements to the police.

[Chris Brady]

I want to say something.  I have a friend who also went through some domestic abuse.  Now, I was never there, or personally involved.  It took a lot of courage and strength to tell me, originally a total stranger about her experience.  She is one of the lucky ones, she stood up to her abuser and kicked him out, and she got out of it physically unscathed.  The risk she took doing that, especially given the things he did to her was immense; she could easily have been another dead victim.  But she's not, and I'm thankful she’s not, just as I'm thankful that all of you are physically unhurt as well.

However, one thing that stood out from her experience she related to me.  And this next bit was written with her help, to give an explanation of what she went through there:

At one point, after, she tried going to a Battered Woman’s Shelter for help.  This was the first place she turned to seeking for help thinking it would be a good idea after several friends convinced her to go. She wanted to get better, but as most of you have experienced, trust is very hard, especially after something so traumatic. She was sitting in a chair at a long table, nervous as could be. Normally, she is quite an outgoing person, will pick up conversations with people here on E or in IRC, will be the first one to raise her hand to go first so “first” is done. This time was different. She shared last. Everybody went around the table and shared their story. They skipped over her because she was still quite unsure what the hell she was doing there especially after hearing all the stories that have resulted in outcomes that are most unpleasant. Hearing the stories people had to tell, children were involved, marriage was involved so divorce was soon to follow. She was the only person there who chose to be there on her own accord, not told she HAD to be there by somebody else. As she heard the stories of the other women in the Shelter, she was given the impression that her experience wasn't as bad.  See, she wasn't married, she had no kids, no dependents that were affected by her abuser. Having a story where the outcome was pleasant, her story and life isn’t that bad and wasn't as badly affected like the others there that night. At the end of sharing her story, she was asked by one of the people leading the “meeting” “Why are you here?” Not exactly remembering the response that was given that night three years ago, she said something like “I don’t know. I guess I made a mistake.” She had. She went. She searched for help of healing, but yet the meeting just shut her down more and was very reluctant of searching for help elsewhere because she was given the impression that her situation wasn’t bad.

That is wrong.  The mental and emotional damage is just as strong and as bad.

What everyone here has gone through, no matter what the perosnal situation is, is terrible and horrific, and should not happen to anyone.  Ever.

And do not let anyone tell you that just because you got out, that what happened to you does not matter.  It does.  You are just as important as someone with kids, or will dependents, and don't believe otherwise.  You deserve resolution as much as anyone else.  No one should be made to feel less than important for any reason.

[Chris Brady]

Sorry for the double post, but if any of you ever get into a similar situation, with 'help', please don't be discouraged.  You DESERVE whatever help you seek out.  Again, you ARE important, and deserve happiness and resolution.  Keep trying.  Please.

[Kimbersqk]

Wow Chris. That is an intense story. If somebody searches for help and that particular place or situation does not "resolve" or improve what is happening in their lives, continue to search. That is very good advice. Continue to search for help. Do not give up hope. If you have lost all hope, what is there to live for? Life is so precious and can be taken away in an instant when you least expect it. Within my field of work, I have experienced many things and learned from everything. There are several situations that I have heard similar stories to the one Chris wrote. Imagining living in that life of unknown, hurt and fear could not be pleasant. Then, on top of that, somebody basically tell you "It isn't that bad," because they came out alive. Wow. The thing I can reiterate the most is, don't give up. You are worth it. You are here for a purpose. These kind of situations can only make you stronger.

[Shadowsmaiden]

I was reading through some of the stories in this blog and contemplated adding my own story to the mix. Unfortunately, it's taken me a day and a half to decide if I wanted to share my perspective on things because I am uncertain if it would help add to making a difference. But I have ultimately decided that I want to join Seren and Shooter6806 in encouraging victims to go forward, so perhaps my story may inspire a little strength and courage in someone out there.

---

My mother was prone to abusive relationships all through my childhood. She would argue with my father and often suffered mental and emotional abuse through him when things didn't go his way because he was a bit of a control freak. He would tell her what to eat and when, how she should dress and act, when to speak and when not to and never bothered to give her a helping hand with things when she was pregnant with me. Their relationship continued after I was born and he denied that I was his child right from the start, accused my mother of sleeping around when he knew that she hadn't been with anyone besides him and even went so far as to try and sell her to his friends. She worked up the courage to get rid of him when I was four years old, but it took him kissing me in a manner that a man should NOT kiss a child to make her do so. He was never allowed back into our lives and she went so far as to go and live with family in a completely different part of our city so hat he wouldn't find us.

Things were quiet for a couple of years. She met a man around six months after leaving my father and the two of them ended up 'seeing each other' without being in a relationship. He was nice enough and seemed genuine with his feelings for my mother, then became the father of my younger brother when I was six years old. Things fell apart between them after that. He started drinking and would not visit my brother unless he was drunk and it was some god horrible hour of the night (2am or something). He would rant and rave.... Even told a Chihuahua once that he loved it and called it by my mothers name.  But he never once hit any of us. He was probably the decent one of the bunch. They ended up ceasing all contact with the exception of arranging visitations with my brother and things went on moving with my mother as a single parent raising 2 children on her own.

Less than a year later, she was repeating the patten and ending up in another relationship all over again.  This one was the bad one... She was with this man for six years or so. He treated her like a queen and spoiled my brother and I rotten. You wouldn't think that lurking underneath that prince charming exterior.... there was a monster of the worst kind lurking.... He would go to the pub and drink... then come home completely drunk and argumentative. He would be ranting and raving, demanding my mother get naked and perform various sexual acts on him while both of us kids were still awake. She often refused of course... and that's when he would hit her. It started with just the occasional slap across the face... but would sometimes escalate to plates being broken and shattered, things being thrown... she would be covered in bruises by the end of it... and sometimes I would be as well because I refused him... Aside from the beatings, he was also sexually abusing me whenever my mother wasn't in the same room as us and because of being afraid.... I kept it to myself, became lost in my school work and simply forced myself to endure....

A child of seven... afraid for her mothers life and for the safety of her younger brother.... refused to be broken by that fear. It got to the point where I would place myself between him and my mother when they were arguing... I would demand that it stop. I would scream and cry and shout at him not to hit her... ordering him... The first time this happened, we were in the kitchen and he ended up pushing me backwards so that I slipped and fell. My lower back hit the corner of our kitchen stove and my spin was jarred mildly... I've had a slight curve in my spine that shouldn't be there ever since...

Oh... the police were called on this man multiple times... but my mother was scared and would never press charges... they would take him and lock him up, then let him come back the next day and things would resume again.

I was 12 years old by the time all of it came to an end... I'd been living with my grandmother for three years, after she took me in when she realized that I was under far too much stress for a child of my age. I was isolated from the rest of the world... would avoid people as much as I could and kept to myself for the better part of everything... A huge part of that might be the sexual abuse as well, but I have long-since come to terms with that part of my life and have learned to accept that it wasn't my fault. As for the domestic side of things... well... last I heard... The police had him locked away and serving time for the next 20 years. I'm not quite sure why for so long, but that doesn't bother me as long as this sucker is off the street. They weren't able to charge him for the sexual abuse because by the time I came forward... the only evidence they had was that I was 12 years old and not a virgin... so it wasn't enough grounds for charges based mostly on here-say.
---

What I am trying to accomplish by sharing my story is... that if a child so young can be strong enough to stand up to the person abusing them... the person abusing their loved ones as well...Doesn't it stand to reason that someone else should be able to? I'm not saying to stand up and do something irrational... but speak up... tell them to stop... make it known that you won't stand for it and if it means turning to the authorities or to loved ones for help, DO IT!. No one should have to go through what my mother went through, or what I grew up with.

I'll be honest... I have no understanding of how one human being could ever harm another. It just doesn't sit well with me.

[Shadowsmaiden]

I am happy to report that I am now 20 years old, living in my own house with the most wonderful fiancée' and we have a daughter of our own who is one week off being 9months old.

Despite everything I grew up with... I like to think myself stronger for it... and have also learned to come to terms with the past. ^_^

[Miss Lilly]

Is there such a thing as low level abuse? I'm thinking more along the lines of emotional or social abuse rather than physical.

[Oreo]

Is there such a thing as low level abuse? I'm thinking more along the lines of emotional or social abuse rather than physical.

I wasn't going to say anything here since I have only been slapped twice, never hit. Been spit on and had water thrown on me for not waking up in the middle of the night to make a snack. I had been exhausted from work and never heard the alarm.

But, in answer to your question - Absolutely! I endured 12 years of verbal abuse. Night after night a minimum of two hours of degradation. I knew it was because he was insecure, and bringing me down was his way of raising his own self esteme. However, after continually trying to prove I could do better it eventually wore me down to a complete despondent state. For the last two years of his life I refused to cry or laugh since either reaction would earn more verbal lectures on what a pitiful person I was. When you hear something enough you begin to believe it. He totally broke my self worth even though I was the bread winner for the family, and kept the house and yard spotless.

He would also do threatening things like sharpening his hunting knife during his lectures, or playing mumbely-peg (tossing the blade into the carpet between us). It wasn't until his death from a heart attack that I realized how much abuse I had actually suffered.

This is a subtle, aggressive violence of the mind. Get Out!!!

[Mithlomwen]

*hugs for everyone* 

I saw this today and it seemed relevant to this thread.  Patrick Stewart is a world famous actor in both film and stage (and happens to be one of my all time favorites).  It just goes to show you that abuse can be found everywhere.  I realize that this message is directed toward violence against women, I just ask that folks remember that abuse happens to everyone.

“Our house was small, and when you grow up with domestic violence in a confined space you learn to gauge, very precisely, the temperature of situations. I knew exactly when the shouting was done and a hand was about to be raised – I also knew exactly when to insert a small body between the fist and her face, a skill no child should ever have to learn. Curiously, I never felt fear for myself and he never struck me, an odd moral imposition that would not allow him to strike a child. The situation was barely tolerable: I witnessed terrible things, which I knew were wrong, but there was nowhere to go for help. Worse, there were those who condoned the abuse. I heard police or ambulance men, standing in our house, say, “She must have provoked him,” or, “Mrs Stewart, it takes two to make a fight.” They had no idea. The truth is my mother did nothing to deserve the violence she endured. She did not provoke my father, and even if she had, violence is an unacceptable way of dealing with conflict. Violence is a choice a man makes and he alone is responsible for it.”  -- Patrick Stewart

[Miss Lilly]

Oh, my.  That brought a tear to my eye, Mith.

[Shadowsmaiden]

It's worse than I could have imagined... Things were not quite as peachy as I made out in one of my previous posts, but they were stable to some degree until Monday...

I have left my partner.. and took my daughter with me. He is drunk almost every few days and we end up arguing over things that should really be trivial or inconsequential such as the raising of our daughter, or factors of our relationship like the sex that is involved.

Anyway, he was drunk Monday night and became so aggressive that I thought he was going to hit me in front of my daughter. We were arguing again as we do most of the time and I had been in the bedroom playing with her on the floor when it started. We exchanged words, he accused me of trying to kill her because she rolled over and hit her head on the  carpet (as babies do) and then went on to ramble and shout about various other issues in our relationship that are personal (I don't really want to go into detail with them.).

It got to the point where I was agitated enough to just want him to leave me alone and I asked him to, but he refused and decided to sit in the lounge room and move from the couch to the floor periodically while he watched every little detail of what I did when I continued to play with my daughter. I was fed up... he was back in my face half an hour later and wouldn't leave me alone... I blatantly yelled at him to fuck off and grabbed a plastic back filled with the essentials for my daughter (nappies, outfits, etc) and took off down to the local police station at 1am.

They took a statement and allowed me to remain there until I calmed completely down. I was offered a personal violence order, but also advised that it wouldn't stand up for long in court because he hadn't actually become physically violent towards me. Because he was drunk and I had no where else to go with my daughter at the time, two uniformed police escorted him to his mothers place and I was told to return to the house and contact a family member if I was concerned for my safety to see if I could go and stay with them for a while. I was adamant that I wanted to leave him and out of fear for the safety of both myself and my daughter, I fled back to my old home-town and I'm currently living with a cousin and her partner who have a 2 year old daughter of their own.

I am set to discuss the matter with the courts and also with a solicitor on Wednesday to see about having a court order put in place regarding custody of my daughter and while I am willing to allow him access to see her, I would prefer to retain the majority of parental control because I do not feel that he is capable of being a father to her as long as he continues being drunk all the time.

---

During the course of our relationship, he was also abusing me by means of controlling every little aspect of my life. He would keep my identification and bank cards in his wallet so that I would have no means to access my money or anything else unless he permitted it. He would watch me like a hawk when it came to my daughter and was always the one who made the decisions regarding her,  always forcing his views on me if I tried to argue. An old best friend of mine (we don't speak any more) is an ex of his and she mentioned before we stopped talking that he'd hit her before as well.... I'm not overly certain how true that accusation might be, but it is quite clear to me that he would be capable of it.

I did what I thought was best for my daughter... As advised by police, I have kept a line of communication open between the two of us to be sure that he knows she's doing okay and such. He wants to mediate with regards to the care for her... but I am too concerned that he might try to physically remove her without a court order or anything and I am told that if he does, there will be nothing that I can do because his parental rights to her still stand at this point in time.

[shooter6806]

Several people have written posts here describing severe mental and emotional abuse that did not involve physical or sexual violence.  While physical abuse often has its roots in mental or emotional attacks, it is equally likely that such assaults constitute the major problem in a relationship.  And therein lies the rub, for me as a first responder.  Your significant other has been treating you like dirt, rubbing your face in your supposed flaws, embarrassing you in front of friends and family, and generally making you feel as though you were worthless.  He or she may have threatened you, insulted you, belittled you, and exploited any weakness in your psyche that they knew about to reduce you to victimhood that they could exploit.

And they haven’t committed any crime. 

So when you are reduced to tears and call the police, there is literally nothing I can do. 

I can and almost always do urge you to leave.  I tell you that it’s not worth it, that being alone is better than staying in a situation where you are subject to abuse like this.  I tell you that you’re worth more than this, and that you can find someone who will treat you nicely rather than abusing you.

And you almost never leave.

If you’re lucky (relative term) something happens to cause you to make the break.  Maybe he/she escalates to physical violence and gets arrested.  Maybe you meet someone who convinces you to leave.  It’s always painful, and sometimes deadly.  If you’re not lucky, you stay in the situation for years.  You are treated like dirt, insulted, called names, made to feel as if you are not worth the dirt under your feet.  And you put up with it.  You smile to your co-workers and friends, while underneath you are dying a little bit every day.

You’re not alone.  And you’re not to blame. 

So what do you do?  Support groups can help, but as at least one member has related, they are often geared toward victims of physical violence, and aren’t able to effectively deal with the very real but less-visible problems of emotional abuse.  The police, as I’ve said, are limited in what they can do.  If no crime has been committed, they are powerless to intervene. 

This is where friends, family, and co-workers need to step up and help.  And their job is very simple.  They need to convince you to get out.  Can an abuser reform him- or herself and be able to have a stable relationship?  Yes.  Will they do it by themselves?  Never.  You have to get out and force them to confront their problem.  You, the suffering victim, have to force them to face what they are doing and make them acknowledge that it is wrong.  If they can’t or won’t do this, you need to cut the ties permanently. 

Yes, I know.  That means divorce, child custody battles, property issues, and all the other negatives that come with breaking up an established relationship. 

But at least you’ll be alive.  And you’ll be able to think about the future with something other than fear.

Please don’t think that just because you haven’t been hit or kicked or choked, you’re not a victim.  If you are being emotionally or mentally abused, you are every bit as much a victim as the ladies who have posted their stories of abuse here. 

Again, I want to thank those members of Elliquiy that have shared their stories with us.  Seren, Wyatt, and I are always available to anyone via PM if you need help.  We’ll try to point you in the right direction. 

[shooter6806]

Short Title:  When Friends Aren’t.

You are the victim of domestic violence.  You have been abused, maybe for years, and you’ve stayed silent about it.  You’ve explained away the bruises, the scars, the tears and the pain.  You’ve posed for pictures with the person who abuses you and you smiled while you did it. 

And then suddenly, something happened.  Maybe someone found out and called the police.  Maybe you finally couldn’t take it any more.  Whatever the reason, now the abuse is out in the open.  Maybe you filed charges, maybe you didn’t.  But you have made the decision.  The relationship is over.  You want out.  You go to your friends, the ones who you’ve been with for years, and you tell them your story.  You expect support.  You expect them to applaud your decision to finally stand up for yourself and not be abused any more.

They don’t.

Instead, you hear things like, “How could you file charges against him/her?”  “I can’t believe he/she would do that to you.”  “You must have deserved it.”

And you thought that they were your friends.

You were wrong.

It might even be family members doing this.  Siblings, especially if they had befriended your significant other and had an ongoing relationship with them.  Even parents, given the right (or wrong) history and predisposition, could blame you for your own abuse.

Yes, they may just be clueless and not know how to deal with the situation.  They may be shocked that the person they thought they knew was capable of inflicting such pain on someone they professed to love.  But all too often, it seems, they actually may side with the abuser, blaming the victim for the abuse and making a bad situation infinitely worse.

Your solution?  You won’t like it.  Find new friends.  Period.

Anyone who blames you for the abuse that you suffered is not your friend.  They are an active obstacle to your getting past the pain and finding a real peace.  That goes double for family members.  The best option for you is to cut them out of your life, at least until your immediate situation is resolved and you have made yourself safe from abuse.

Fortunately, most people are not so short-sighted, and most friends will be supportive and helpful.  But if you encounter “friends” who blame you for your abuse and urge you to just put up with it and stay in an abusive relationship, you need to cut your ties with them and look out for yourself. 

You are worth it.  And a real friend wouldn’t tolerate their friend being abused.

[Kimbersqk]

You are right Shooter. Your true friends would say "Oh my god. Change the locks. Do you have money to change them? We can send them via mail express and you get them in 2 days." I just laughed and said I had already got it taken care of. That is what true friends are. They look out for you and they love you for who you are.

Then you have the friend that argued with you. He had fed her so many lies and she believed them. I was smart and fought back, verbal words to try and make her understand that he was a load of nothing. I told her some things that he told me about her. She said that was an absolute lie. I knew that. It proved my point of, LOOK! He is a liar and had so many people fooled. After our not shouting match but our whatever you want to call it, she understood. Then she apologized. Even friends are sometimes steered in the wrong direction and will not believe you at the beginning. Maybe doing something that I did will help, maybe it won't. It did help me. Helped me use his own lies against him to help me clear up a friendship that I had had for 6 years, my roommate in college of 3 years.

Maybe this little story will help somebody else look at a different strategy to help "convince" their friends that they are right and the pig isn't.

[Mithlomwen]

Here's an informative video. 

http://www.ted.com/talks/leslie_morgan_steiner_why_domestic_violence_victims_don_t_leave.html?source=facebook#.UQW7gk9cqDx.facebook

[MissRoziel]

I don't know if My story counts,  Probably because even now two years later part of me wonder if what happened really was abuse and not just me being autistic and not understanding.

I was in an internet relationship of five years, It started out really nice, we had a lot in common we role played a lot he would comment on how creative I was and I'd applaud his new story lines,  we encouraged each other., I'm not really sure when it started but things started happening,  he'd make comment that kind of hurt my feelings,  But I suffer aspergers,  I have difficulty with understanding things like Humor, Sarcasm, even metaphors,  Because my brain is wired to be very literal minded.  Because of this often times I'd just amount my feelings to my own fault for not understanding the joke or just not seeing the sarcasm,  hey if it's written down how can you tell right?  and it's easy to tack on a LOL at the end to make it seem ok.

Things progressively got worse to the point my parents and friends where noticing.  He had ways of, chipping away ate me,  I'm a night owl and find I'm more active and aware at night, but I was also juggling school and work by this time so I'd need to go to bed so I had enough sleep, but he'd pick fights he'd tell me I just wanted to sleep to avoid him he'd tell me I was awful for leaving him,  even though I would wait until 2 in the morning for him to log on, I was a bad girlfriend because he failed his test because he stayed up late to talk to me. 

My job was already taking a very heavy toll on me mentally, In the states there really isn't a mental health option, as I'm sure you in the states are aware you get a choice be a good tax payer and do your job or we lock you in a care facility,  theres no, lets help you, theres no,  we'll offer you medical aide (one of the greatest things of moving to England is I can finally be fully open about the things happening in my mind with out fear of being locked up) I was being forced into situation that where causing almost daily breakdown, but when I sought out his support he always made it out to be my fault, I was to stupid for understanding,  Aspergers just meant I was retarded, and the like,  I'd get upset but then he'd turn around,  I was so creative he loved me so much he bought a ring (that ring Oh man how many times did he mention that damn ring)

I'd convince myself he was right it was my fault for being aspergers and not understanding.

He started getting more,  I don't want to say aggressive but what he would say to me would get meaner and meaner, I bought I webcam at his insistence with his promise he'd buy one to (he never did)  but then it was new complaints, My breasts where to big, why couldn't I lose weight,  He noticed I read romance novel he'd say they where trash and I was awful for comparing hm to the men in the books, though I never did.  He complained about my hair about my cloths about my room, and every so often when I started getting fed up he'd drop a bomb,  who was I kidding, I had to stay with him,  He was the only one who'd ever love me the way I was,  I'd break down I had no idea what to do, life was becoming this steady long rut a drag  he was getting nastier work was getting harder, by this time My parents where finalizing their divorce,  they'd been separated two years,  the initial separation came as a shock,  My dad just decided one day he didn't want us any more.  six month later he told me and my brother he was moving out.

When I told My ex,  his first response was defending my dad,  I wanted comfort because my dad was leaving us and I was sad and all he could say was it was my dads right to leave us if he was unhappy, we should have been better for him.  a couple months of stringing my mom along with promises that he might come back, my dad cut the cord and told her he never planned to come back, and she made and attempt on her life.  It was a miracle my little brother was home sick from school he herd her fall and called for help.  Needless to say stress was a constant,  and he never let up on me, there was very little comfort offered but I was so starved for anything by that point that the little scraps of affection he did offer had me singing his praises.

things never got better up until the day I told him we where moving to England,  his first reaction was that I was selfish for leaving,  everything was my fault everything,  he'd failed his exams, he wasn't getting into med school like he wanted and I was the problem, he wasted his time talking to me,  he was to busy 'worrying' about me to study or do his class work, he was to busy chatting to focus during his study groups.  it was around this time he'd also started rubbing other girls in my face,  He lived near a casino city and would tell me about the showgirls and the sexy women there,  he'd tell me to wait for him, and I would dutifully because he got mad if I wasn't there right when he logged on, but 6 o'clock in the morning he'd roll online 'sorry went to casinos with friends forgot'  I did that once, and he tore me down so bad I considered self harm (only considered cause I'm a wuss and can't stand pain so I'd never actually do it.)

So I told him we where moving, and I told him I wanted his unbiased opinion,  what did he want between us, he said he wanted what was best and hat was that,  it was just kinf of over, but after then he kept talking to me, and I'm a sucker and well stupid,  I kept talking to him, he got really nice again for a while but then thing went down hill, complaints about the posts I was writing how I didn't give him the work and effort he deserved, I Mentioned a friend wasn't getting very good stuff from me either because I was sick and just couldn't focus and he went totally off on me for giving her my time and attention instead of him.  but then he'd go back 'oh but we're friends' 'oh but I want to talk to you'

in the last two years he's messaged me periodically to be 'friends' and then proceeds to guilt me with everything that's going wrong in his life

So maybe this really dosen't count but during the relationship and now afterwards My mother who is always very helpful and my friends all said it was bad for me he was bad for me, but there are these times,  especially when I'm feeling really lonely and aware of just how alone I am and I hear him saying how no one will ever love me but him, what if he was right?  what if I am the one who messed everything up because of my disabilities and not being good enough,  what if I'm just going to always be alone now?

It must really sounds stupid but, I guess I thoughts I'd share,  an experience from the mentally handicapped.

[Blitzy]

I should be asleep right now. I just got home from a 12 hour shift but I read this and I... just can't not respond.

I am a 911/police/fire dispatcher as well. And, at this moment, I have a card sitting in my dispatch center for Tampa PD reference one of their dispatchers being murdered by her ex. http://www2.tbo.com/news/news/2013/jan/24/6/apparent-murder-suicide-in-town-n-country-under-in-ar-615422/ So this hits home pretty strongly.

Bad, bad things can happen in domestic violence situations. It may not happen all at once, but it can.

Thank you, Seren and Shooter for making this thread. For putting it out there, right in everyone's face, and maybe saving someone's life.

[marauder13]

Seren, Shooter and those other brave souls who've shared,

Thank you for speaking openly about this matter. I am one of the fortunate few who has not grown up in an abusive environment, nor have I been abused.

I am a married father of two young boys, neither have reached double digit ages yet. While dating, my wife and I spoke of what to do if things ever went bad. Not that I ever thought it would, but when your loved one has a diagnosed mental health illness, it is easy to understand how quickly things could change, or how easy it is to loose control.

I know for a fact that I have a temper. I am also a naturally large man, with a fair amount of strength. So, I monitor myself so tightly that if I feel myself loosing it, I'm out of the situation without a word said. No hesitations, delays or rationalizations. Bang - gone. Been called a coward more than once because if it too.

Why do that? Because I am shit scared of doing to someone the kind of things that have been written here. I can proudly say, since turning an adult nearly 30 years ago, I have never once laid a hand on someone in anger, not matter how much they have pissed me off. That is one of the few things I am proud of.

I hope that those of you who have gotten out of those abusive relationships, and have had the courage to speak up about them feel proud for doing that - speaking up. I can't think of anything harder to do than to recall those terrifying events while trying to help someone else. All of you have my utmost respect for being able to do it. Further, I pray that these words, be it here, or elsewhere, make a positive impact on at least one person who will get themselves out early enough not to suffer too greatly. It would be even better if it made someone seek help before they became abusive.

Finally, to those who have experienced it, or know someone who has, my deepest thoughts and well wishes go out to you for your continued peace, well being and happiness in your new phase of your lives.


M13.

P.S. Shooter, you are a hero, mate. Because a hero is someone who gets up and does something to help someone in a time of great need. Who knows what might have happened to Seren if you didn't act. You may not think you're hero, but it is obvious others think so. Plus, you've shown that just because you're not there or close handy, you can still help and made a positive difference.

[Oniya]

Marauder, I just want to say that someone who does that - who recognizes the problem and takes the safety of others ahead of his (or her) own ego - is far braver than the ones who toss out the word 'coward' because someone else doesn't want to beat them to a pulp.

[shooter6806]

Just to reinforce what has been said by me and others, this data is from the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence.  It pretty much speaks for itself.  This data is just from the US, and is 5 years old.  Other nations probably have similar and in some cases greater problems with this issue.  This is not something to keep quiet about. 

Get help.  Please.

One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime.(1)
An estimated 1.3 million women are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year.(2)
85% of domestic violence victims are women.(3)
Historically, females have been most often victimized by someone they knew.(4)
Females who are 20-24 years of age are at the greatest risk of nonfatal intimate partner violence.(5)
Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to the police.(6)

Witnessing violence between one’s parents or caretakers is the strongest risk factor of transmitting violent behavior from one generation to the next.(7)
Boys who witness domestic violence are twice as likely to abuse their own partners and children when they become adults.(8)
30% to 60% of perpetrators of intimate partner violence also abuse children in the household.(9)

Almost one-third of female homicide victims that are reported in police records are killed by an intimate partner.(14)
In 70-80% of intimate partner homicides, no matter which partner was killed, the man physically abused the woman before the murder.(12)
Less than one-fifth of victims reporting an injury from intimate partner violence sought medical treatment following the injury.(15)
Intimate partner violence results in more than 18.5 million mental health care visits each year.

One in 6 women and 1 in 33 men have experienced an attempted or completed rape.(10)
Nearly 7.8 million women have been raped by an intimate partner at some point in their lives.(11)
Sexual assault or forced sex occurs in approximately 40-45% of battering relationships.(12)
1 in 12 women and 1 in 45 men have been stalked in their lifetime.(13)
81% of women stalked by a current or former intimate partner are also physically assaulted by that partner; 31% are also sexually assaulted by that partner.

The cost of intimate partner violence exceeds $5.8 billion each year, $4.1 billion of which is for direct medical and mental health services.(17)

Victims of intimate partner violence lost almost 8 million days of paid work because of the violence perpetrated against them by current or former husbands, boyfriends and dates. This loss is the equivalent of more than 32,000 full-time jobs and almost 5.6 million days of household productivity as a result of violence.(17)

There are 16,800 homicides and $2.2 million (medically treated) injuries due to intimate partner violence annually, which costs $37 billion.(18)

REPORTING RATES
Domestic violence is one of the most chronically underreported crimes.(20)
Only approximately one-quarter of all physical assaults, one-fifth of all rapes, and one-half of all stalkings perpetuated against females by intimate partners are reported to the police.(1)

Approximately 20% of the 1.5 million people who experience intimate partner violence annually obtain civil protection orders.(1)
Approximately one-half of the orders obtained by women against intimate partners who physically assaulted them were violated.(1)
More than two-thirds of the restraining orders against intimate partners who raped or stalked the victim were violated.

SOURCES 7/07
1 Tjaden, Patricia & Thoennes, Nancy. National Institute of Justice and the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention, “Extent, Nature and Consequences of Intimate Partner Violence: Findings from the National Violence Against Women Survey,” (2000).
2 Costs of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in the United States. 2003. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control. Atlanta, GA.
3 Bureau of Justice Statistics Crime Data Brief, Intimate Partner Violence, 1993-2001, February 2003.
4 U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Criminal Victimization, 2005,” September 2006.
5 U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Intimate Partner Violence in the United States,” December 2006.
6 Frieze, I.H., Browne, A. (1989) Violence in Marriage. In L.E. Ohlin & M. H. Tonry (eds.) Family Violence. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
7 Break the Cycle. (2006). Startling Statistics. http://www.breakthecycle.org/html%20files/I_4a_startstatis.htm.
8 Strauss, Gelles, and Smith, “Physical Violence in American Families: Risk Factors and Adaptations to Violence” in 8,145 Families. Transaction Publishers (1990).
9 Edelson, J.L. (1999). “The Overlap Between Child Maltreatment and Woman Battering.” Violence Against Women. 5:134-154.
10 U.S. Department of Justice, “Prevalence, Incidence, and Consequences of Violence Against Women,” November 1998.
11 Costs of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in the United States. 2003. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control. Atlanta, GA.
12 Campbell, et al. (2003). “Assessing Risk Factors for Intimate Partner Homicide.” Intimate Partner Homicide, NIJ Journal, 250, 14-19. Washington, D.C.: National Institute of Justice, U.S. Department of Justice.
13 Tjaden, Patricia & Thoennes, Nancy. (1998). “Stalking in America.” National Institute for Justice.
14 Federal Bureau of Investigation, Uniform Crime Reports “Crime in the United States, 2000,” (2001).
15 U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Intimate Partner Violence in the United States,” December 2006.
16 Costs of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in the United States. 2003. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control. Atlanta, GA.
Tjaden, Patricia & Thoennes, Nancy.
17 Costs of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women in the United States. 2003. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control. Atlanta, GA.
18 The Cost of Violence in the United States. 2007. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Centers for Injury Prevention and Control. Atlanta, GA.
19 U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Family Violence Statistics,” June 2005.
20 U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Criminal Victimization,” 2003.
For more information, please visit our website at www.ncadv.org.

[Rogue]

Your story

I don't know if My story counts,  Probably because even now two years later part of me wonder if what happened really was abuse and not just me being autistic and not understanding.

I was in an internet relationship of five years, It started out really nice, we had a lot in common we role played a lot he would comment on how creative I was and I'd applaud his new story lines,  we encouraged each other., I'm not really sure when it started but things started happening,  he'd make comment that kind of hurt my feelings,  But I suffer aspergers,  I have difficulty with understanding things like Humor, Sarcasm, even metaphors,  Because my brain is wired to be very literal minded.  Because of this often times I'd just amount my feelings to my own fault for not understanding the joke or just not seeing the sarcasm,  hey if it's written down how can you tell right?  and it's easy to tack on a LOL at the end to make it seem ok.

Things progressively got worse to the point my parents and friends where noticing.  He had ways of, chipping away ate me,  I'm a night owl and find I'm more active and aware at night, but I was also juggling school and work by this time so I'd need to go to bed so I had enough sleep, but he'd pick fights he'd tell me I just wanted to sleep to avoid him he'd tell me I was awful for leaving him,  even though I would wait until 2 in the morning for him to log on, I was a bad girlfriend because he failed his test because he stayed up late to talk to me. 

My job was already taking a very heavy toll on me mentally, In the states there really isn't a mental health option, as I'm sure you in the states are aware you get a choice be a good tax payer and do your job or we lock you in a care facility,  theres no, lets help you, theres no,  we'll offer you medical aide (one of the greatest things of moving to England is I can finally be fully open about the things happening in my mind with out fear of being locked up) I was being forced into situation that where causing almost daily breakdown, but when I sought out his support he always made it out to be my fault, I was to stupid for understanding,  Aspergers just meant I was retarded, and the like,  I'd get upset but then he'd turn around,  I was so creative he loved me so much he bought a ring (that ring Oh man how many times did he mention that damn ring)

I'd convince myself he was right it was my fault for being aspergers and not understanding.

He started getting more,  I don't want to say aggressive but what he would say to me would get meaner and meaner, I bought I webcam at his insistence with his promise he'd buy one to (he never did)  but then it was new complaints, My breasts where to big, why couldn't I lose weight,  He noticed I read romance novel he'd say they where trash and I was awful for comparing hm to the men in the books, though I never did.  He complained about my hair about my cloths about my room, and every so often when I started getting fed up he'd drop a bomb,  who was I kidding, I had to stay with him,  He was the only one who'd ever love me the way I was,  I'd break down I had no idea what to do, life was becoming this steady long rut a drag  he was getting nastier work was getting harder, by this time My parents where finalizing their divorce,  they'd been separated two years,  the initial separation came as a shock,  My dad just decided one day he didn't want us any more.  six month later he told me and my brother he was moving out.

When I told My ex,  his first response was defending my dad,  I wanted comfort because my dad was leaving us and I was sad and all he could say was it was my dads right to leave us if he was unhappy, we should have been better for him.  a couple months of stringing my mom along with promises that he might come back, my dad cut the cord and told her he never planned to come back, and she made and attempt on her life.  It was a miracle my little brother was home sick from school he herd her fall and called for help.  Needless to say stress was a constant,  and he never let up on me, there was very little comfort offered but I was so starved for anything by that point that the little scraps of affection he did offer had me singing his praises.

things never got better up until the day I told him we where moving to England,  his first reaction was that I was selfish for leaving,  everything was my fault everything,  he'd failed his exams, he wasn't getting into med school like he wanted and I was the problem, he wasted his time talking to me,  he was to busy 'worrying' about me to study or do his class work, he was to busy chatting to focus during his study groups.  it was around this time he'd also started rubbing other girls in my face,  He lived near a casino city and would tell me about the showgirls and the sexy women there,  he'd tell me to wait for him, and I would dutifully because he got mad if I wasn't there right when he logged on, but 6 o'clock in the morning he'd roll online 'sorry went to casinos with friends forgot'  I did that once, and he tore me down so bad I considered self harm (only considered cause I'm a wuss and can't stand pain so I'd never actually do it.)

So I told him we where moving, and I told him I wanted his unbiased opinion,  what did he want between us, he said he wanted what was best and hat was that,  it was just kinf of over, but after then he kept talking to me, and I'm a sucker and well stupid,  I kept talking to him, he got really nice again for a while but then thing went down hill, complaints about the posts I was writing how I didn't give him the work and effort he deserved, I Mentioned a friend wasn't getting very good stuff from me either because I was sick and just couldn't focus and he went totally off on me for giving her my time and attention instead of him.  but then he'd go back 'oh but we're friends' 'oh but I want to talk to you'

in the last two years he's messaged me periodically to be 'friends' and then proceeds to guilt me with everything that's going wrong in his life

So maybe this really dosen't count but during the relationship and now afterwards My mother who is always very helpful and my friends all said it was bad for me he was bad for me, but there are these times,  especially when I'm feeling really lonely and aware of just how alone I am and I hear him saying how no one will ever love me but him, what if he was right?  what if I am the one who messed everything up because of my disabilities and not being good enough,  what if I'm just going to always be alone now?

It must really sounds stupid but, I guess I thoughts I'd share,  an experience from the mentally handicapped.

I just wanted to let you know that this isn't stupid and you were definitely in a situation where you were being verbally abused and this is every bit as severe and mentally stressful as any other abusive relationship. A partner is supposed to help you and support you, especially with the problems you had to deal with dealing with your family and mental disorder. I'm happy you escaped and if you ever feel like that's happening again don't be afraid to talk to any one in this thread who has volunteered, myself included.

Fortunately, I've never personally been the victim of abuse so I can't fully relate to these stories. Unfortunately, I've had one story hit close to home. I don't know all the details since it was my cousin and we live in separate states. Only thing I do know is the one time I'd met him I didn't like him immediately (I was only 14 at the time so that's about how seriously my opinion was taken). I learned about the abuse later on and the on and off status of their relationship as well as various other drama surrounding their relationship, including his imprisonment and later the near death of my cousin almost two years after she had permanently ended it. Their relationship became a token to me to not fall into that trap and to listen and seriously consider the opinions of anyone who sees something might be wrong with the relationship.

[Rhapsody]

I've been told my experience qualifies as abuse, but I've never been able to see it. When I've told people about it, they told me it was. I've said it myself, but it never felt true. I was never hit, never verbally castigated, never spat on, never called names, but...

I lost my virginity at age 16. I was dating an 18 year old and, while I hate him to this day, I still have trouble seeing exactly what he did to me. We started having sex a few months after we started dating, and it kind of just went downhill from there. I'd had orgasms before, from previous boyfriends, but I never experienced one with him. He didn't really care if I was satisfied or not. It was a chore to him the few times he tried.

My mother had gotten pregnant with me at 16, and I was terrified of ending up in the same boat. I made him swear to use condoms, even though I was on the pill, and told him why. Every now and then, he'd talk me into fucking him without one, and he'd pretend to come inside me, then laugh when I panicked. He badgered me for blow jobs -- and he was never all that clean -- but would never reciprocate, telling me that he "didn't feel like fishing" or to let him know when "trouting season was over". He would pick me up, drive to the grocery store, and steal a $3 pack of condoms in front of me, even though I knew he had the money to pay for it.

I remember one instance where he farted by the lockers in school and, when I asked him what he was laughing at, he moved me to stand in the cloud of stink.

I never said anything, to anyone until years later, because I was the awkward, misfit heavy girl in high school who was just grateful to have someone want to be with her.

Some days, I still feel like that.

I didn't have sex with anyone for two years after him, but by the time I did, I had developed hang-up after hang-up, relating to my own self-image, my sexual attractiveness. My worth. They persisted until I married Requiem, and it's only gradually that I've been able to get over some of them with his patience, understanding, and help.

Friends tell me it was abusive behaviour, and I've said it myself, but deep down, I still don't really believe it. Because how could it be?

Maybe that's a dangerous way of thinking, but I continually find myself excusing it under "oh, well, it was high school" and "oh, well, he was just thoughtless and didn't realize". "He didn't know how much he was hurting me." Even I reflect to the top of this post: "I was never hit, never verbally castigated, never called names..." There were no physical bruises. There were no torrent of tears. There were no shouting matches. How could it be abusive?

Yet person after person has told me it was. And sometimes I wonder, how can so many people be wrong?

[Oniya]

At a bare minimum he was getting thrills out of putting you in uncomfortable, humiliating, or even panic-inducing situations.  He left emotional scars on you, even if he never laid an angry hand on you.  That classifies him as a 'Not Very Nice Person', and you are well rid of him.

[Mithlomwen]

This made me smile. 

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/patrick-stewart-million-men-violence-women-011042478.html

[lindorable]

Shooter, seeing as you are a cop, please help me if you can. My boyfriend and my schitzophrenic cousin were waiting for me at the beach. During that time my cousin had started drinking. Seeing as she is schitzophrenic,  the alcohol made her condition worse and she tried to kill my boyfriend. She got him on his stomach, and choked him so hard he didn't know what to do. On his last breath he jrrked his elbow back a few times just to get her away. When she finally let go he went to run but passed out from lack of oxygen. This gave my cousin plenty of time to make a crazy story. When I got home the police were there saying that my boyfriend beat up my cousin and she was in the hospital.  I warned the cop that she was schizophrenic and she was just refently beaten up by a roommate but he didn't listen to me and my boyfriend got put in jail without his miranda rights or anything. This happened like 7 months ago, and since then my cousin wrote a letter to the judge explaining that it was her fault and my boyfriend was innocent. She even had the letter notarized.  We called the court and they said they were sending the letter to the police to charge my cousjn, but they wont take off my boyfriends battery charge. Do you know why that would be?

[shooter6806]

I'll send you a PM and give you what limited insight I can.

[shooter6806]

This is why I urge anyone who is being victimized to get help, don't hide it, get away from the abuser, and press charges.  Please.  You don't have to die because someone wants to control you. 

Milwaukee domestic violence victim was beaten before, family says
South side woman was shot in van; ex-boyfriend then killed self, police say
By Ashley Luthern of the Journal Sentinel April 10, 2013
EMAIL PRINT
Anne Marie Bautch began dating the man believed to have killed her more than three years ago, a family member said Wednesday.

Her then-boyfriend, Daniel Billings, had a history of run-ins with police, and when Billings beat Bautch badly enough to hospitalize her, she didn't report it because she didn't want him to go to jail, family members say.

"With the family, there was a lot of intervention work done, we showed our love for her and told her to get away. Time passed by, they broke up. But she never really got full closure because even at the very end, he was still controlling," Mike Bautch, Anne's brother, said Wednesday.

Family members said Bautch, 39, dropped her son and daughter off at school Monday and returned about 9 a.m. to her home in the 4300 block of S. 5th St. She had purchased a house about a year ago in the same neighborhood where she and her six siblings grew up and took pride in it, painting the walls as recently as last week.

Billings, 41, a cab driver, pulled a taxi up to the rear of the minivan where Bautch was sitting. Then he shot his former girlfriend before turning the gun on himself, police said.

As a felon, Billings was legally barred from owning a firearm. Milwaukee police asked the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives to expedite the gun trace and were told the last record of it goes back to 1967 when it was delivered to a now-closed gun dealer, Police Chief Edward Flynn said Wednesday.

"All we know is it's never been reported stolen. Presumably it's moved through the secondary market for the last 40 years, that's all we can infer," he said.

Mike Bautch said the weapon Billings used doesn't matter.

"Whether it's a knife, metal pipe or a gun, a killer is still a killer. I just don't think the gun made a difference," he said.

Mike Bautch said his sister's death came as she was purging the negative aspects of her life.

"She wanted to be a better Christian, and she felt she had a better path and destiny coming her way," he said. "And unfortunately, we were seeing it as being a better life here, and it ended up being that she died and is going to heaven."

Services are planned for Saturday at Faith Builders on S. Howell Ave. at a time still to be determined. Northstar Loans, Bautch's employer for nearly 20 years, has established a fund in her name to care for the educational needs of her children. Donations can be made at any Tri City Bank location.

[thebobmaster]

Reading these posts is hard for me. I can't imagine what being in that situation is like. I do have my own domestic abuse story, but it is different. I feel like I need to share it, though, to show that not all domestic abuse is physical or sexual.

My father was fine, although he may well have been an unfit parent. I wouldn't know, because I was only 6 months old when my mother left him, getting a divorce a short time later. The problem came when she met Sal. He could be nice enough when he wanted to be. And around my mom, he always wanted to be. He had charisma to spare. And that is what made things go so badly. He and my mom were married when I was 9. I was not supportive of it, even at that age. Over the course of the next 4 years, and for some time prior to the marriage, I was verbally abused on a daily basis. Not a single day went by when I didn't have my intelligence, looks, or something else insulted. For the most part, my mom just looked past it. It wasn't that she didn't notice. It was that she thought he was just "teasing" me, and I needed to stop letting it bother me. Finally, when I was 13, almost out of the blue, my mom took me, my older sister, and my younger half-brother out to go live with her mom while she prepared a divorce.

What made her do that wasn't some awakening she had about what what happening to me, it was the fact that Sal had successfully seduced my sister's 15 year old friend, and attempted to rape my sister (he had her trapped in a closet, a hand on her throat, when she threatened to tell our mom if he ever touched her). She did finally accept that he was verbally abusing me when she found out he called me a "fag" (keep in mind, I was 13 at the time. I didn't even come out to myself as bisexual until I was 19). That was the part that hurt the worst, I think. I felt like what happened to me really was minor compared to what he was doing to everyone else (except my half-brother, who was only 1 and a half at the time). I felt like I really should have just gotten over it.

One trip to the counselor later, and years of undiagnosed depression later, I have realized that while what he did to my sister and her friend were horrible, what he did to me was just as bad in another way. Remember, just because you aren't hurt on the outside, or touched physically at all, does not mean that you have not been harmed at all. Words cannot break bones, but they can crush happiness. That is something far worse.

Oh, and my mom did not press any charges, as she didn't want to put my brother through that, since he was too young to understand. That was 11 years ago. My brother is now 12, and he has not seen his dad in a year, and hardly ever talks to him by his own choice. My brother has his own problems (ADHD and tics), but I am glad that he has the option of not suffering at the hands (or tongue) of his father. Despite his blood, he is my brother, not my half-brother.

[thebobmaster]

Sorry, mistype. That sentence after "crush happiness" should read "Can be much worse sometimes." I don't want to sound unsympathetic to other abuse victims.

[Amber Meave]

Dear beautiful people,

I hesitated as to whether I should contribute to this blog. Since a lot has already been said and my words might be a repeat of earlier posts.
And what I have to say, takes up some space.
But the courage to speak what's in your heart keeps coming back to me. 
It takes guts to speak up and share that you have been abused, have abused others or are afraid to that you will. Honesty is a big step in getting out of abusive behavior, whether you are on the receiving or giving end.

Abuse and violence have many forms and gradations. Over 12 years ago I broke out of an unhealthy relationship. For seven years I had tried very hard to do the right thing. I thought that if I gave every ounce of love I had in me, he would notice me, be kind to me, love me in return and make love to me, rather than take me whenever it pleased him to do so. Through his harsh behavior I could see his hurt, his pain and I just wanted to make the pain go away.
Slowly it drained me. I was miserable, angry some of the time, but mostly sad and , in time, more and more numb. I knew I wasn’t happy, that I should leave, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I defended my boyfriend whenever a friend or family member tried to tell me he wasn’t treating me right. My loyalty towards him and my guilt and shame for what happened were enormous. And those kept me where I was. In time it took less and less to set him off.
Not once did it occur to me that it was an ‘abusive’ relationship. He never hit me and although I didn’t want to have sex some of the time and it hurt, he didn’t hold me down. I said no, but I didn’t get up and leave the bed, where I could have. So I felt I was responsible.
One night after a huge fight and me breaking down, no longer able to man up, all the hurt coming out in great sobs, he laughed at me. And something snapped inside.
It wasn’t the cruelty of his reaction that hit me hard, it was me. Sitting on the floor, ice-cold, shivering, crying my eyes out.  What was I doing to myself? Why was I here?
He could say and do to me what he did because I let him. And more than that: somewhere deep down, I believed I deserved it.  And didn’t deserve anything better.  Once I recognized that truth I couldn’t look around it.
Everything became very still, and very clear. I looked at him. And something else occurred to me.
That we weren’t very different: we were both living in violence.
He hurt me, but himself as well in doing so and I let him hurt me, again and again. Inside we were both hurt, broken.
I realized that I couldn’t take his hurt away, I couldn’t heal him.
Not long after that I left. After the first period of living like a hermit, drinking a few glasses of wine every night to numb the panic and pain I slowly crawled out of my shell. I still felt as if I had no skin to protect me. My nerves were overstrung ,  my whole body hard from tension.  I jumped at sudden noises and unexpected touches.  It wasn’t just because of the relationship I had been in. My whole life was a huge attempt at keeping everyone around me happy. And I lived a life that wasn’t me.
My self esteem was very low, deep down I was convinced it would be easier for everyone if I wouldn’t be alive.
I started getting fantasies where I was abused or watched people being abused or molested. Every gruesome thing you can come up with passed my thoughts and imagination.
I was horrified by my own mind. 
I turned my life around. Quit medical school, went to art school.  My circle of friends changed. I felt relatively happy and calm, for the first time in a long while.
But the abusive horror fantasies were still there. They turned me on.
Slowly I became more curious than disgusted with myself. I wasn’t hurting anyone thinking up gruesome scenario’s.  I stopped judging myself for them, let my fantasy go where it wanted to.
And that was healing. Slowly, they subsided and disappeared all together.
Making room for love and compassion towards myself.
I started Yoga classes.  The first were very confronting. Yoga relaxed my muscles and nerves, I learned to breath more fully, slowly freeing bottled up pain from a lifetime.
Yoga changed my life around. So much so that today I still practice as well as teach Yoga.

A very long, personal story to come to the essence of what I really want to share.

Full acceptance of who we are, as human being and acknowledgement of our feelings and bodily signals as true and valuable information is essential. For a happy, loving , healthy life.
Ignoring, judging or ridiculing what we feel inside or what our body tells us, causes tension and accumulation of hurt and makes us unaware of what we feel and need. Judgment of what we really feel inside is an act of aggression towards ourselves. Done often enough or severely enough it will drain us of any feeling of happiness,  peace and self worth we have.  Nothing loving can come from that. Eventually our body can’t stash the pain any longer. We become aggressive, depressive (swallowed aggression), or otherwise incapable of living our life.
How to get out of that cycle?

Awareness
First you have to be aware there is aggression (towards oneself or others) and tension.
Become aware of the voice that judges everything,  realizing that it is a sneaky bastard and a very destructive one.

Acceptance.
Learning to accept the ugly thoughts and impulses that are there.
Only in acceptance of what is, will the body and heart relax enough to bring a sense of peace and love that we need even more when unhappy and desperate. 

Letting go of judging oneself
Once we realize how sneaky and destructive the judgmental voice in our head really is, can we let it go. To make room for our heart to speak. Guilt and shame are life drainers and bring nothing loving or good. Holding onto them keeps you in the past and will bring past behavior into the now, and into the future. Reward yourself that, in this moment,  you are willing to change that, it is very courageous and an act of love in itself!

Separate action from feeling
You want to change behavior, which is a habit, but don’t judge the feelings hidden underneath it.
Grant yourself the space to feel whatever you feel, no matter how dark. Your body never lies, the feelings it produces are there for a reason.
Feelings are energy, let them flow, and they will move on and make room for something new.
Space and acceptance of what you feel diminish the urge to act on them. 

Tension release
The above is only possible when our body is relatively relax. Yoga and meditation not only relax the body and mind. But bring awareness and calm. It opens the heart, so we can love(again) and give us fuel and courage to deal with whatever there is in the here and now. I’m not saying Yoga is the way, there are many ways to release the body and create awareness, it’s just the path I choose to follow and feel happy doing. 

One moment at a time.
We only have this moment in life to make a difference.  There is no mountain to climb: only this one step. And every new moment is a possibility to choose to accept what is, or judge what you feel or think.  In the beginning you will become aware now and then. But those moments are like a small snowball rolling down a snowy mountain.

Patience.
Tension and destructive behavior has developed over years, give yourself time. We are all born with a deep need to love and be loved, it takes time to find that birthright again. 

Save environment where you can just be, and being is enough.  
Once you’ve decided you want to live lovingly and deserve to be loved, no matter how thin that voice is, you will be become more aware of people that are good for you. Finding an environment that supports you for who you are is essential. The atmosphere, the people in it.
Doing something you love, that brings a smile to your face, reinforces feeling good about yourself and reinforces all of the above.

Amber Meave

[Amber Meave]

I am not sure this post should be here.  It doesn’t really describe domestic violence. It describes some of the aftereffects of growing up in an unsafe environment, as I experience them today.

I realized tonight I still retreat when life is rough, because I still expect people to do what they’ve always done when I am honest about how I really feel: I expect them to get mad or turn around and leave.

In the last 18 months  I have encountered the most remarkable people. 
Making me see we can Love in it’s pure sense:   give, freely, without need for something in return.
Making me believe again it is okay to tell when I’m sad or need help.
I am very grateful for those encounters, long and short.
I thought it had changed my childhood base of never being really save into one of feeling save.

I realized tonight that I am still that little girl that learned to survive on her own, that little girl that learned that crying and asking for help meant trouble and being left alone.
Telling the truth, 15 months ago, to the people nearest to me – my parents-  meant losing everything I held dear.: my family. The only way I can be part of my family again, the only way I can see my little niece grow up, is to lie and pretend everything is fine and nothing ever happened.
And as much pain as it causes me that I can’t explain to that little girl why she can never see me again, when I used to spent so much time with her she started calling me ‘mommy’, I can’t lie. Not anymore.  I learned to accept the facts as they are, and that I can do nothing about them.
But what stays is this: if my parents walk away mad when I tell them what hurts so much, how can I expect anyone else to want to stick around when it really matters?

I realized tonight that, what was once a necessary means to survive, became a labyrinth of walls I keep myself prison in. When I’m scared, hurt, wandering in darkness, I keep everyone at bay till I feel fine again. For surely, they will never want to have anything to do with me if I would ask them for help or let them know how I feel.

When I post an email, and there is no response in expected time, the first thing that goes through my mind and sticks there like a poisonous snake is: I said something wrong and will never hear from the person again. 
Although the latter might occur, it hardly ever is the case in reality. But the effect never wears off.

As much steps as I’ve taken in letting people into my life that are good for me and enjoy being with me, trust is still so thin and fragile. 

I have no clear idea how to build a more solid base of trust, but being aware of the above, surely, has to be a start.

[Giantmutantcrab]

*coughs lightly*

Ahem.

It's been several months since someone replied to this thread.  I'm not really sure if anyone who has participated in it still check it every once in a while, or not.  But it’s new for me, and I took the time to read everything that everyone chose to put down.

And then the floodgates opened.

It’s that feeling, right?  The prickling at the base of your neck, going down your spine, like some metal spider’s long, thin, needle-like limbs digging through to your bone?  The sensation of your heart twisting, your stomach tightening to the point of physical pain, the absolute lack of sensation?  You turn like a statue, a prisoner in your own body, in your own mind.  The tears, the cries, the soft whispers.  Attempting to disengage only makes it worse.  Attempting to help only makes it worse.  Trying anything, doing anything or not…  it’s always the wrong choice.

I am a 32-year old man, and I was a victim of domestic violence.

Imagine a kid.  Shy, timid, reserved.  Spent his teenage years suffering from a campaign of physical and emotional violence for all of high-school.  Overweight, with zero self-confidence.  Thinks himself unable to accomplish anything.  Got tired of being overweight, and started training.  Got sick of being bullied, started martial arts.

So back to 2001.  20-year old kid.  Never even kissed a girl.  Meets the girl.  THAT girl.  18 years old.  Tall, blonde, blue-eyed.  Knockout body, soft-spoken with “come hither” eyes.  So gentle, so quiet, smiling…  How could it not be perfection?  First hand held, first kiss, first REAL kiss, first…  everything.

Six months later, Ms. Perfect starts to change a little bit.  Quicker to anger, longer to come down from that anger.  Talks harder, using harsh words.  I wondered what was going on with her.  Maybe I had done something to piss her off.  I have a knack for that.  So I try to be nice.  Well, nicer.  Give her gifts.  Call her more often.  Stop a couple of activities I did to be with her.  Things still don’t get any better.  In fact, they get worse.  She tells me that I’m smothering her, not giving her air to breathe.  Ok, so I leave her time and space.  Distance my calls and meetings with her.  Figured that when she would want to see me, all she’d need to do is call.

What a terribly naive decision.

She calls me over, fuming.  I go to her house, and we start talking fighting.  And I don’t even know why.  She’s telling me how angry she is at me, what am I doing, who am I seeing, am I cheating on her…  WHAM.

She punched me right in the face.  Right under my left eye.

It hurt.

I just stood there.  I was frozen.  I could not think, could not speak, could not breathe.  Time stopped for a moment, and I felt nauseous.  Why did she do that?  HOW could she do that?  I start to speak louder, shouting, upset at her.

She kicks me out.  A week passes by.  She calls me back, purring sweet promises of an evening.  I go over, thinking that it was just a little mistake.  An accident.  She didn’t mean it.  So I went right back to her home, smiling and bringing over flowers.

What a terribly naive decision.  Again.

Because it wasn’t an accident, and it would not stop.  The cycle had come full circle.  Escalation, violence, rekindling, and down time.  Sometimes it would take weeks, other times it would take hours.  Each time she kicked me, or punched me, or bit me, or nailed me…  I just stood there.  Not blocking her, not fighting back.  My parents’ voices ringing in my ears.  “YOU DON’T HIT WOMEN, DAVID.  YOU DO NOT HIT WOMEN.”  But why was she hitting me, then?

After a year of that, I was sick of it.  I ended it.  I called her up at work, and told her that it was over.  I did not want to see her again.  Hung up.  And that was it.

Three years later.  2004.  I had just ended another short-termed relationship based solely around physical contact and sexual content.  I had a string of that for around three years.  She calls me up.  Tells me she needs me.  Tells me she WANTS me.  I think sure, why not.

We meet at my place.

She was so sexy, wearing that little lingerie thing she had bought when we first started going out.  All the right words, all the right moves.  Really acting it up.  But…  I just could not do it.  I didn’t even get aroused.  She was on her hands and knees on my bed, and everything…

And I just told her that I could not love her, or make love to her anymore.  Not after all of that.

Never heard from her again.

The worst part?  Besides being attacked, feeling weak, and frail, because men are supposed to be the protectors and the defenders?  Besides the cuts and bruises, the weak excuses and the feeling of being a trapped animal in a cage?  The worst part of ALL of that?

I was the one with the reputation of being violent with my partners now.  See, I had invited her in my group of friends.  Lots of teenage guys, very few girls.  So what had to happen, of course, happened.  She slipped and fell and landed on another man’s lap.  People whom I thought were friends.  And she told them stories.  About how mean I was to her, grabbing her, choking her, doing all I could so there would not be any marks left anywhere.

And they believed her.  That was what hurt the most.

This is more than 14 years behind me.  Out of all the fights, all the tough crap I had to slog through…  That was the toughest.  I’ve been practicing martial arts since I was 14 years old.  I’ve done championships, won medals (not Olympic ones, mind you), and done a lot of working out.  I’ve currently been boxing for the last couple of years.  And let me tell you…

I’ve never had blows that hurt so much then when that 120 pound girl was giving them to me.  Because they struck deep inside of me.

Now, for all those of you that posted here, I would like to call you all heroes.

“But, I didn’t do anything amazing.  I just wrote something.  Made a phone call.  Checked something on Google.  That’s not heroic.”

he·ro
noun \ˈhir-(ˌ)ō\
: a person who is admired for great or brave acts or fine qualities
: a person who is greatly admired
You ALL have fine qualities, that have been presented with every word that was transcribed here.  And you are ALL people  that I find myself admiring.  And thus, without any hesitation, I will call you heroes.  Heroism is not slaying the dragon; it is facing real life and not break the rules.  Heroism is NOT pulling a gun to rob a liquor store; but to work 8, 10, 12, 14-hour shifts at slave labor wages, because that’s what honest people do.  Heroism isn’t to punch the “bad guy” in the face; it’s to settle differences through meaningful dialogue.

I may be only talking to myself here, but I wish to thank you all for having allowed the floodgates to open.  I have cried, and I have hesitated before writing this.  But I have been inspired by your courage to put this down.

Thank you all for putting so very intimate moments of your lives here.  I am privileged to have seen them, to have read them, and to have participated in a minuscule way.

I hope that you all find peace, and serenity.  We all deserve it.

[Amber Meave]

My Dear Giant,

I have not looked at this blog for some time. But somehow felt the need to do so now.
That is how beautiful energy works. It brings people together on a very intuitive level.


Thank you for your courage to honestly share your feelings and experiences.
I am sorry you had to go through all that.

I found E! to be a very friendly open minded place.
I found too, that sharing things I would normally keep inside can be a great relieve, can have a healing effect and, as you stated, can help others open up and share as well.

None of us is alone in those experiences, as personal as they might be.
And none of us has to be alone in dealing with them.

A very Big Hug,

Amber

[Orange Marmalade]

Hey Giantmutantcrab,

I just wanted to say thanks for sharing your story. It is a story that gets told both too often and not often enough because men are afraid to speak out. They're afraid to defend themselves because society is always quick to blame them in these situations, or shame them, or not believe them. The fact that domestic violence resources for men are virtually non-existent and there are stories of them attempting to use women's resources and being completely shut out, ignored, and turned away... it isn't easy.

In the United States, out of 1800 Domestic Violence shelters, there is... 1 for men. One. There are no advocacy programs, nearly no support groups, men can't get government help for room and board like women can when hiding from their abuses.

So thank you for coming forward. The more visible this gets, the more help other people may receive who are in the situation you were in so long ago. Domestic Violence can affect anybody.

[HannibalBarca]

I hear you, Giant.  I get it.  I'm 6'5", and, before my head-on collision at 29, five days before my 30th birthday, I was 230 pounds of hefty, powerful, basketball player.  'Menacing' I had some people say, among other things, simply because of my size.  The truth is, a lot of us big guys are teddy bears exactly because we get tired of having people look at us fearfully, especially when we might startle someone.  We develop a soft touch, we try to show everyone we're not monsters.  Meh.  Small peanuts compared to so many in this world who suffer so much more.

Except when I've been struck by those who mean something to me in an abusive way.

The size of the body or the ability to take a blow in no wise reflects the effect on the heart, which we all have, male or female.  Nothing hurts more, other than perhaps being told afterward that, 'you're a man, you can take it,' as if being a man means you are impervious to emotional pain or scarring, or worse yet, your feelings mean nothing to that person.  Been there, done that.  No thanks.  Never again.

A couple people here have called me a hero.  I'm flattered, but in reality I was just trying to help a friend.  Sitting at a computer screen and making a couple key phone calls is not my idea of heroics.  It's just doing what is right. 

Shooter, you're a humble guy, and I expect no less from a civil servant as selfless as a police officer.  I understand it.  In my family, we have seven teachers, six military, three firefighters, two police officers, two correctional officers, two EMTs, and a head emergency room nurse.  Service to others, I understand, coming and going, and I'm grateful for your service and the service of every other hero who does what needs to be done, facing the constant horrors that life shows those who stand between us and the end of civilization.  That is who a hero is.  Those who do not turn away, but do the difficult deed, sometimes at a great cost to themselves.  Putting the needs of the many ahead of their needs.

You don't need to admit or even recognize your heroism.  We know.  Your brothers and sisters have your back.

[ladia2287]

I consider myself fortunate. Not just because I grew up in a home where abuse was considered unacceptable, but because my parents were attentive and loving, and saved me from a relationship which had the potential to become abusive.

The then Mr Ladia was an old friend from Primary School (Australian equivalent to Elementary School, for the Americans here). We virtually grew up together. We played together. We hung out together. We told each other lame jokes and complained about teachers we didn't like.

I lost contact with him after he broke up with his first girlfriend, who happened to be a classmate of mine in High School. He moved to a country town for a while and for nearly three and a half years the only word I heard from him was the occasional email to say 'hi'.

After that lapse, it seems he moved back to town and he tracked me down via Facebook. My birthday was coming up and I was so excited to hear from this old friend that I instantly invited him, and he said he'd love to come.

A couple of months later we were hanging out at the beach and he confessed that he had feelings for me. It was a typically romantic moment; the kind that would have most romance-lovers melting.

As months went on, friends commented that we were an adorable couple. Colleagues who saw us together said the same. Only my parents and my sister seemed to think differently.

They saw what I did not see or even notice. Behaviours and comments that they knew, coming from anyone else, would be considered deliberate jabs at my self esteem. Looks that expressed a boiling anger he daren't put into words.

It all came to a head one New Year's Eve. We were planning to spend some time together, as I'm sure most couples would. My parents were going to drive me to his house because I didn't want to deal with NYE traffic. He was less than pleased because I told him I could only stay until 1am, whereas he was hoping I would spend the night. What followed was a relentless tirade of verbal abuse over the phone and insulting posts on Facebook about me and my family.

Dad was the one who saw the Facebook messages. I hadn't told my family about the phone conversation. He sent The former Mr Ladia a PM, telling him he was withdrawing his support for our engagement and that the man was not welcome in my parents' house. Despite my pleadings, my parents forbade me from seeing him.

As harsh as it may seem, and as heartbroken as I was at the time, I can now look back with relief and know that I was extremely lucky my parents caught on to what he would become. I was lucky enough to escape before I was in too deep.

To everyone out there, even if you don't think your partner is being abusive or hurtful, if someone close to you is concerned, please listen to them. They may be trying to save you from a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

[Giantmutantcrab]

I'm both glad and sad to see that more people are writing on this specific tread.

I'm glad, because it means people are daring to talk openly about what they have suffered, in hopes of either relieving themselves of this weight, or perhaps help others to not suffer this.

But I'm sad, because it means that lots of people have suffered abuse.  Either menacing 6'5" tall giants of basketball muscle, or lithe young women that barely scratch the 5 foot tall mark.

This may not be that one singular catalyst that you need to focus that pain away, to move on from it.  But it can be a start.  It can help.  Maybe.  A little.

It did for me.  It could for you.

[Inferior Rabbit]

Hey guys. Before I go on, I just want to say that the community that I've found here is something remarkable, and, dare I say, beautiful to see here. The fact that we can discuss serious issues like these is something amazing.

A bit of background I guess. My name is Max, and I am 18 years old. I moved here to Cincinnati after me and my mom had some trouble down in Tennessee, which is the main point of what I'm about to talk about here. Domestic abuse that affects kids. About me and my mother mainly.

I think I was eleven or twelve, the last time I saw my dad. Fourteen was the last time I heard his voice I think. My parents had met during their time in the army, back in the early nineties. They were both stationed in Germany. Mom tells me that it was a great time, and that she and him had a lot of fun back then. Wasn't any sort of conflict or war going on, save for all that stuff that was stirring up over in the middle east. However she never got sent over(thank god), and when she was pregnant with me, they were both sent home.

However, I never really did get to see that happiness or love that she talked about. Growing up down there, I spent most of my time outside, or at school with wrestling, just to stay out of the house. My father was constantly drunk, and my mother had a drinking problem as well(sparked by my father's habits). She and I lived in a constant state of fear. He'd throw beer cans and bottles at us when walking up the stairs, spit on the back of her head, and one time he sent me to the hospital when he was driving me home from a wrestling meet, while drunk. The bastard ran us into a tree, thank god we were going slow.

Finally though, I think my mother had enough. She realized that if she didn't feel safe in her own house with him, then she would be trapped with him forever. She took us up here to Cincinnati, where my grandparents and uncles lived. She sobered up, went to college, and did what she had to do to take care of me, and for that I'm grateful.

But if there's a point to this story, it's this. It is a hard burden, growing up with a father that is abusive like that. That hurts your own mom in such a way. It made me feel like it was my fault, and I thought that for a long time. Like I did something to deserve it. It's one thing to not have a dad. It's another to have one that treats you and your family so poorly. But ill tell you what. If I had stayed, I know I wouldn't be as nearly as happy as I am now. A college student, wrestling coach for a bunch of great kids, and a guy who is on his way to helping people.

You've gotta be strong. You've gotta have the courage to do what you need to. To speak up, and speak out. Sometimes, it's not just you and your safety that's at stake. It's whoever else that lives with you. Only cowards act such a way. They're just bullies.

And if there's one thing I tell my wrestlers about bullies, it's this. No matter what they say, no matter what they do, they cannot control you. They see just how perfect you are, and how ugly they are, and they want to bring you down to their level, but they can't. Only if you don't let them. Have the courage to get help, to get out, to tell them to piss off. You will be a far better person for it.

I'm not sure if this is the right way to comment this. I'd start my own blog for this particular topic, but it's too much trouble, and it seems related.

Thank you for reading, thank you for giving a place to talk about this, and thank you for doing the right thing.

[fireflights]

My story thankfully is not as bad as the rest of you, but I was forced into a marriage by my mother with a horrible man who mentally abused me for the first six months of our marriage. I say six months because we were separated the other six months and divorced as soon as I could track him down to make him sign the papers. Unfortunately in Utah at the time, a divorce could not happen without the other party's signature. So I was forced to sit there for years waiting for him to return so I could make him sign. Anyway, that's not what my story is about.

I was seventeen when I met him and I had more morals then to sleep with a man before I was at least engaged to him, knowing that I would marry him. Al had proposed to me I later found out, just to get me into bed, but then my mother, without proof assumed I was pregnant and that the tests I took were false because my periods from the moment I had sex disappeared. So she pressured me into marrying this man. Shortly after our marriage when I was 19, he began losing his temper and hitting things and always making me wonder when it would be me he hit next. He even threw live baby mice down in front of my little niece, reducing her to tears. But the worst of it was just three months after we were married. We were sleeping at my mom's and I had been upset at him for something I to this day can't remember. I just remember his pulling my panties to the side and raping me anally as I cried and begged him to stop. After that, he went to las vegas and our relationship effectively ended, but I was told by the cops at the time that the law in Utah did not protect wives and that they could not legally say no to their husbands so I couldn't even prosecute him. I have had to live years now with the ramifications of his raping me anally, but thankfully the monster is now in jail for killing someone. So I guess I am better off without him for sure.

[Kimbersqk]

A friend just shared this with me. i thought it was pretty interesting...

http://i.imgur.com/GqvhFlf.jpg

Unfortunately, that is what my ex was all about, plus a bit more. Just thought i'd share the thought here.

Kimber

[Soumis]

You are all such lovely, lovely people.

[Cryptic]

I first wanted to say, it takes a lot of strength for the people to have shared their stories about this particular abuse. It's hard to open up and speak about it, to admit that it happened to you. Trust me I know. I also want to say that each one of you, every person, is so very special and wonderful to have lived through this, and that it can only get better. It takes time, you will never forget it, but it will make you a stronger person.

Now, I've been debating with sharing my own story for some time now, since I first came across this blog back in May. I honestly wasn't until I spoke finally to my father on getting my own story out there. He told me yes, perhaps it would finish the healing process between the two of us. Perhaps it will, perhaps in some way I will actually start learning on how to forgive him for everything that has happened between us.

Forgive me if this seems a bit long, but I was a victim of abuse for more years than I can really remember. Now, most people know about physical abuse, because you can see the results, but mental and emotional abuse leave scars that will never heal. Most of the people here know what I am talking about, and most of you ladies and gentlemen actually carry these scars that will never heal. I have several of these wounds, and yes, most of them were caused by my father, by the things I have witnessed, and well also by the small town I grew up in. Now, I know I sound like a typical abuse victim by asking everyone who read this not to judge my father too harshly, and that he is a great man, but he is, now that he's been sober for going on 13 years. So I suppose this story is better started by stating, both my parents were abused as children, physically mostly, but when two abused adults have a child, what will happen? Will they learn from their parents mistakes or continue the brutal cycle of abuse? I hope it's the former, and as I grew up, I got a better understanding of everything, especially after I turned 18 and just blew up.

Now, as state, both my parents were physically abused as children, my mother, not so badly as my father... my uncle having used to sleep with a baseball bat to keep my father safe from my grandfather. They grew up with it, and each handled it a different way... My uncle became a cop, my dad, he became a drunk after he left the military. Now, my story starts with the memories I can bring up, I know there is so much more, but... these are the ones I can remember as bright as day. I remember a few times my father flying off in a drunken rage at my mother, beating her, yelling and screaming at her for lies or something not being right. A time up in the mountains him having her sit on the edge of a cliff when I was four, his foot at the small of her back threatening to push her off, to watch her die. I was in the truck beating on the windows, begging him not to kill my mommy. Yelling at him to stop, yelling at my mom to apologize. I also remember cracking the windshield in my attempts to make it stop, and being spanked later for it.

No, I don't consider spanking to be physical abuse, and I fully admit, as a child I did need a swat or two, and that was all my parents did. I didn't deserve that one though, that much I do remember. At five, a friend of my father's started to sexually abuse me... force me to sit on his lap while he played around, made me go down on him. Held me down while he did things to me. He was eventually caught, and sent to jail. I was the one at fault, for letting him do as he wanted to me. I was old enough to realize that this was wrong. Why didn't I scream? Why did I let him do it? Why? Was I retarded? Asked this time and time again by my parents, I swallowed an entire bottle of aspirin, and had my stomach pumped when I was 6.

As time grew on, we moved to a small town. My father stayed in the city, my mom and I in a small country town of 150 people. The abuse between my parents had stopped, though with me... it grew into verbal and emotional abuse. My mother constantly berating me on not being perfect, not being pretty, not being the picture perfect child with several popular friends. My father calling me stupid, and idiot, a fucking retard whenever I brought home anything less than an A. I felt horrible, until I turned ten and things changed.

Did you know an entire town can turn against a person with a single action? It's what actually made my mom wake up with this happened, it's what made her stop and realize that, I was her only child, there was not going to be any second chances, that this was it. If she fucked this up her legacy would simply die away? At the age of ten, my father had a new friend. He was a good guy I thought, and my father had drilled it into my head, anyone he trusted, I could as well. Who was I to question the lord and master of the household? So, I did. He raped me, he abused 3 other kids in the small town I grew up in. I didn't tell my parents for a long time, not until after a year, he robbed us and I kept silent about it, until I finally opened up to a teacher about what happened. (Big Mistake). Later that week I told my mother, he had abused me sexually, why mention the rape? It was my fault anyways right? I was old enough to know better, I should know how to defend myself right?

I didn't expect it to almost kill her mentally though, it changed her so completely when I went to having friends, to being popular to being nothing. A plague within my school. I was abused in school, constantly, beaten up, picked on, bullied... all because parents were telling their kids to stay away from me because I was dirty, I was tainted. If they were my friends, they would be tainted as well. I became a zombie... I didn't laugh, I didn't cry, I didn't show any emotions, why should I? I was nothing.

At 15 I tried to take my life. I slit my wrists and just sat there on a old abandoned railroad track bridge, watching the sun set. I had finally given up. I couldn't take it anymore... I hated what I was, what I had become. I was tired of not being good enough for anybody. My first love saved me then, driving by, seeing me sit in our spot, and took me home after bandaging my wrists, calling my mother and taking me to the hospital 30 miles away. My mother became my councilor, my best friend, everything that I needed in that time period, telling me that I was perfect, and a great kid, the best thing to ever happen in her life. She also told me her story, and realized that we both needed to see someone and we did. We worked through it, and I still love her to death for doing that, for becoming everything I seriously needed during that time period.

I graduated high school at 16, we moved back in with my father, and he started to hit me, beat me when my mother wasn't around. Drinking heavily every night, until he was in a blind rage. I had to hide the cigarette burns on my legs and arms, because I was his human ashtray. I didn't understand everything he went through in his life. I would never live up to his expectations. I was a disappointment. With all that I turned to drugs... when I ODed on heroin I wish I could say that was his wake up call, but it wasn't... I was just a worthless piece of shit to him. I snapped at 18 when he started to hit me. I just couldn't take it anymore, I lashed out at him. I blamed him for everything, his worthless friends that abused me, and raped me. (What a time to actually come out and say that). I hated him, I truly did, and when he had me pinned outside the trailer, hand around my throat, while I still rasped out what a piece of shit he was, how he deserved to die, he woke up.

He woke up in that instant when I blacked out, my mom screaming at him, beating at him. When he realized what he was doing, what he had done. He stopped drinking that week, stopped everything that he was doing and started to change. He started going to counseling and anger management. My father when he found out that I was pregnant was scared to death, he was afraid that perhaps I would start becoming like them. To be honest, I am at too sometimes with my three kids, I keep remembering what happened to me, what I went through, and am so terrified. Though, after that night on the bridge, in the arms of my boyfriend, I remember him whispering to me, that this will only make me stronger, only make me better. To give me so much more insight on life. I grew up in the dark, but I must always look for the silver lining. It's helped, maybe my father is right, letting someone out there know more about me, letting them know what I grew up with might help me to heal, might help me to forgive.

Anyways I am sorry for rambling, and I thank you both for putting this out there, letting everyone know there is a place for people like us, that there is hope and that light at the end of the tunnel. I know there is, I seen it, I'm out of that damned tunnel and I just want the others out there to know that too. It's not to far away, just hold on for a few more steps and you'll be out of the dark.

[shooter6806]

With the publicity surrounding the Ray Rice incident still making headlines and bringing the issue of domestic violence front and center, I thought it appropriate to comment about it here.  I’d appreciate other opinions and invite comments from one and all…..

First, on the incident itself.  We are offered a snapshot inside a very troubled relationship.  The physical abuse shown on that video does not seem to be something foreign to the couple.  It was mutual, it was alcohol-fueled, and neither of them seemed shocked as it escalated.  It was normal for them.  That is disturbing in and of itself. 

She still married him after this.

That is even more disturbing.

I read several commentaries on this incident by everyone from sports figures to domestic violence counselors.  One thing that struck me was the feeling of some people that instead of encouraging victims of domestic violence to report, it would cause some women, especially those in relationships with sports figures, to NOT report what happened to them.  Part of the attraction for these women is the money these men make, so the theory goes, and reporting the abuse chops off the gravy train.  Ray Rice is now making nothing, and is probably not going to get many offers to play even if the NFL lifts his suspension.  Book deals are only worth so much.

In the aftermath of this, we are seeing a renewed attention on domestic abuse, which is all to the good.  What is not so good at least to my mind is how many people, including abuse victims, actually defend the abusers and attempt to excuse their actions.  I’ll say this loud and clear.  There is NO excuse for domestic abuse of any kind.  ANY violence toward someone you say you love, whether it’s physical, mental, emotional, or sexual, is a violation of the social contract that we MUST live by.  Money and fame do not excuse behavior that should have earned Ray Rice prison time. 

I sincerely hope that this episode will inspire victims to come forward and seek help, rather than enabling the abusers.  I have a fear that all too many “macho” abusers will see themselves in Ray Rice, and see the support for him as validation of their actions. 

Stay safe, everyone.

[Alhanna]

I debated making a post about this ever since I joined Elliquiy. A part of the reason I kept it to myself was because I was so new and barely known. I didn't want it to seem like a kind of cry for attention or... something equally low. Another part was... well, I guess the stigma. I didn't want to be pitied. I had my dignity and I did not want to be looked down upon.

Reading this blog entry... changed my mind.

I already shared a little of this with Dovel, one of my mentors. It came up in conversation. The rest of those who I have shared PMs with... do not.

But I feel the need to share this.

I am a domestic violence victim.

Four months ago, my soon-to-be ex-husband escalated during an argument and I basically had enough. The next morning when he went to work, I took what I could of my possessions, my toddler son, and my cats and fled to safety. I initially stayed in a shelter for three weeks until word came to me that he knew where I was. Frightened, we arranged for me and my son to go to another shelter, in a different city.

This is where I am now. I've spent the last three months searching for work, getting public assistance until I can get back on my feet, and basically tried to move on with my life. Because I relocated to a different county, divorce laws state I must be a resident for three months before I can file. I have finally filed with the help of a local legal aide clinic. I have made friends here, I've started to become familiar with this new city that I will be calling home for a time....

Meanwhile, my husband never filed for divorce. He kept calling and texting me, telling me he wanted us back, that he loved us, that he wasn't sure what happened, but he wanted us to be a family again. Except all the activity I saw on his email and Facebook said he was socializing with women galore through dating websites, never mentioning he had a wife and son. The lies he spread made me sick. More, some of his family members and friends seem to believe I was just overreacting or.... whatever nonsense.

I am alone. I moved to this state a few years ago to make a new start. Boy, what a mistake that was. I had some family here, but mostly estranged. When things started to get bad, I did reach out--and met either silence, apologies, or outright "noes". That was the hard part. My own family is scattered across the country, with none having the finances to bring us to them. Many of my family are right there at poverty level, of the working poor.

I am basically facing this alone. My friends try to offer what emotional support they can, because that's all they can. But what was astounding was to learn just how many of my friends have experienced their own domestic violence. A friend of mine has been divorced for seven years from her abusive husband. Another friend managed to escape an abusive boyfriend. A third was sexually assaulted for years by someone in her extended family.

I'm not sure what I intended to say here.... but reading these stories have helped. To know that I'm safe here at Elliquiy also helps. It's weird but having a safe haven, even online, has been a boon. I was forced to deny my creative side for years because my husband would get jealous of me doing anything away from him. I lost friends, online and offline, because of him. He tried to isolate me, but he couldn't stop me from reaching out through social media and reconnecting with friends that in turn supported my flagging spirit.

To those who have made it, I'm glad. Your stories are helping me.

[Amber Meave]

The Ray Rice incident


Placing myself in her shoes...

I can't imagine staying with someone who abuses me physically..but if I replace the physical abuse with emotional and sexual abuse...I understand why she stayed and even married him, instead of filing a complaint against him.
Oddly enough, I think that the more the outside world pays attention to the abuse and judges the boyfriend, the stronger her urge to defend him.

I spent seven years of my life with a guy who treated me badly. Even now I find it difficult to call it abuse. But I guess it was. No one was forcing me to stay in the relationship. Yet I did. So, apparently I agreed with what happened, therefore it could not be called abuse. Nonsense. But that is what I believed at the time. I felt responsible for what happened.
I had to make up a lot of stories, mostly to myself and a lot off excuses for his behaviour, to myself and my family, to convince myself to stay and believe I was happy.
Looking back, outside of fairy tales and my own safe place inside myself, I had no idea what happy was, but I didn´t know that, then.

And I had the strange misplaced conviction a lot of woman have: that I could save him from himself and turn him into a loving devoted husband and friend.
I saw behind his behaviour and thought I could heal him.
If I just tried hard enough, loved him enough, forgave him enough....he would change...and love me back.

At the same time, deep down, I did not really believe I deserved to be loved.

In my core I felt guilty for being alive. I felt I disrupted other peoples life’s, simply by being there.
I tried to make myself as invisible as possible.
I tried to be as nice and compliant and giving as I could be, more flexible than an elastic band.
Thinking it would make peoples angriness and frustration go away.
I did it with my family. I did it with friends. And above all, with my boyfriend.

My sense of self worth was nonexistent. 
That he belittled me, threw things at me and screamed at me, that he used me, sexually, whenever he felt like it and ignored me completely at other times, it felt horrible...but it resonated perfectly with how I felt about myself.

Comments from my family and others were an attack on my own choices. If I agreed they were right it meant I was wrong and my choices were wrong.
Despite the drama and aggression...he was my boyfriend that I chose to live with. My loyalty was with him. Misplaced. But that was how it was. 
The more openly they judged him the more I started to defend him. And the more resolute I became to stay and make it work.

*
Money and dependence

Within the relationship I was completely independent, financially. I had a scholarship and my family gave me money. But that was all spent on bills and food. Halve of what he earned (which was far more than I made) disappeared god knows where and the rest was spent on booze and cigarettes, clothes and parties.

I could never safe any money, the moment I did he borrowed it from me, indefinitely, for whatever reason.

The one time my mother gave me 2000 dollars to pay of my student loan we had just moved in together. His family had paid for stripping and painting the house, it was not more than fair -he convinced me- that the money from my family should be spent to pay for the rug and other things we needed.  So I gave in and gave him the money.

Even though he spent most of his money outside of our relationship it did bring a sense of security. It made me feel safe, as oddly as that may sound. Because I did not think I could do that for myself.  Letting go of that security was, on a very basic level, terrifying. 

The thought of leaving was more frightening than the idea of staying. Leaving meant having no home, no money and no protection against my family.   Worse, I would have to turn to them to support me, far more than they already did, until I could take care of myself.

I did not think I could. I felt not worth enough to be alive. Let alone to work and make my own money and deserve it. It is the first, very basic need, because it provides a roof over your head and food to live.

I read several commentaries on this incident by everyone from sports figures to domestic violence counsellors.  One thing that struck me was the feeling of some people that instead of encouraging victims of domestic violence to report, it would cause some women, especially those in relationships with sports figures, to NOT report what happened to them.  Part of the attraction for these women is the money these men make, so the theory goes, and reporting the abuse chops off the gravy train.

On an psychological and energetic level, our first sustenance of life is one on one related to a basic feeling of being good as you are, of being worthy. If you have no sense of self-worth or very low self esteem, it will be very hard to provide for yourself.
Money can bring a very basic sense of safety , however false it may be. And status, money and fame can form a big compensation for lack of self worth.

Change

Would there have been a way for anyone else to get me out of the abusive relationship before I found the courage to do so myself? I don't think so.

Because the basic problem was my own lack of self worth.

I had to hit rock bottom first, realize I was going to die if I stayed where I was....to wake up and decide I did want a life, I did want to be happy, with myself. The only way that was going to happen was if I made it happen. No one was going to do it for me.

Can we help someone who is in an abusive relationship? Yes.
By supporting that person, by loving them, from an honest open heart.

I found it very hard to let anyone in and I was very good at keeping people at bay and keeping up appearances. I could not talk about it out of a sense of loyalty towards my boyfriend and our relationship. And because I felt it was my fault.
But maybe some woman can talk about it.

If I could have.....to be able to share my feelings, relate what happened...to someone who would really listen, without judging me, without feeling the need to make it better. I think it would have been a start to open myself up to a better way of being, of living.

[Seren]

I am so proud of this thread.

It seems to give a lot of people a place to vent their personal experiences and that is a wonderful thing.

[Vergil1989]

I haven't read all of the posts before this one, mostly because if I read anymore my eyes will bug out of my head, but truthfully, I don't need to, not after reading about someone's verbal abuse story near the beginning of this thread.  Their story is too similar to mine.  Similar, but there are some major differences as well, not that it matters I suppose since we're all unique snowflakes and all that.  If it's not obvious, humor is a defense mechanism for me when trying to talk about stuff like this.  Currently, I'm 28 years old, I live in Illinois, and a little over six years ago I had to call 911 when my dad tried to kick in the back door to my mother's house with a knife in his hand and a roll of duct tape and a length of rope in his truck.

Let me back up a bit and say something I probably should have led with.  I was born with a rare genetic disorder, a muscle weakness disease called Muscular Dystrophy that has progressed to the point that I've been on mechanical home life support since I was eleven years old.  Before that I had a gastrointestinal tube inserted into my stomach so I wouldn't aspirate my feedings anymore, and a number of other minor and at times, major, surgeries throughout most of my life.  Beyond the tracheotomy, the only other major surgery I had was to have twenty five metal rods placed against my spine to correct the very sharp curve that nearly ended up crushing my heart.  I have been through a great deal from a health standpoint alone, and I can only imagine the effect watching her, at the time only, son had on my mother going through all of this.

Throughout all of this, I was an only child until I turned 17, when my little brother Cyle was born.  He was normal, healthy, and pretty smart we'd find out as he got older.  My little brother Craig would come a few years later.  He's currently 14, due to turn 15 in September.  He unfortunately also has MD as well as Autism, but he is very much in possession of his mental faculties otherwise.  He can pick up a tune and play it back on a keyboard in no time flat, and he plays PS 3 with his feet better than I can with my hands the jerk lol.

But all of this is to simply lay a bit of groundwork, and to impress upon you all that what I'm about to say is substantially more difficult for someone like me.  I've been weak my entire life.  Being physically unable to protect myself, to even help myself to do the simplest things, left me at the mercy of those around me.  I am still at the whim of those I have to live with, but I now have a voice and while it's not always easy, I know how to use it.  The abuse started, or perhaps it never stopped and I was just too young to understand, shortly after I turned four.  Funnily enough I didn't think any about it when my dad came in one evening and started arguing with my mom.  It hadn't been the first time, but they stuck around each other so while it made me nervous I went about whatever I was doing.

It wasn't until I started scooting my little butt out of my room, (I didn't always use a wheelchair to get around), that I heard an awful clang and something heavy hit the floor that I saw my mom on the ground.  I don't know if he pushed her or if she simply tripped to this day, but I don't care, and I didn't think about it at the time as she told me to get the phone.  I never got it because my dad got there first.  The house got eerily quiet after that, but the next thing I can remember is a guy in uniform sitting on our couch asking my mom questions.  I didn't understand what was happening, only that things seemed to settle down for a good while between her and him so I didn't think much about it further.  It isn't until a bit later that something happened to me directly that I began to keep my mouth shut about most things, although to look at me you'd never guess.

I had issues with incontinence for a good long while growing up, so I had to wear diapers and what have you well past what would be considered 'too old', although at the time I also had a medical reason that resulted in my bladder suddenly letting go of whatever was in there.  My point though, is that I was five or four still, sitting in front of the TV on a Saturday or whatever, either just waking up or getting ready to turn on the SNES, and my dad comes in, turns on a 'movie', and takes off my diaper.  I vaguely remember saying something not needing changed, and he says something about turning over.  It's only then I see he's naked.  I found it all unusual and very strange, but this was my dad, I didn't know what he was doing was wrong on so many levels.  So while it was upsetting I did as I was told, except nothing happened.  He got up and left, leaving me to scratch my head, but that he even considered doing that at all to his own son...

There were a few minor incidents of verbal abuse but nothing I thought much about since most of my life had been spent between him saying stuff to my mother mostly, and the occasionally heated exchange, but nothing to the extent I could still vaguely recall from when I was still four, so I was content, mostly.  Besides, I had my own problems to deal with, a slowly failing respiratory system being chief among them.  At seven I had my back surgery, and because I never received any physical therapy during my recovery, I got so weak afterwards that it accelerated the deterioration of my lungs to the point that when I was 10, I went into the hospital for what they believed would be the last time if I didn't get the tracheotomy put in.  It's only later that I found out that my dad didn't want to sign the paperwork that would allow the home health nurses to start showing up at our house once the surgery was done, which in turn was why I spent my 11th birthday in the hospital.

I had spent a number of holidays in the ICU or the hospital in general by this point, so while it upset me a great deal, as it always did, it was a fact of life by then and one I simply swallowed.  I had gotten quite good at swallowing a lot of things.  It turned out that my dad wanted to keep my mom isolated over making sure I got the care I needed, but eventually he signed the papers and things went from there.  I was too wrapped up in my own emotional trauma of having this new tube in my neck and having strangers coming through the house to really give much else my attention, but I might have noticed the slowly worsening conditions between my parents otherwise.  It took several years of just little verbal jabs and arguments to escalate to full shouting matches when my dad suddenly quit his job, but the tension in the air slowly grew increasingly more noticeable even to me.

There were a number of things though I only now realize what they truly were, that I had accepted as simply the way things were.  That he always seemed grumpy when mom was gone for longer than she 'should have been', that he could have friends and stuff over but she couldn't without being given the stink eye, just small things.  But then I heard something about how my dad said he was going to quit his job after mom finished college for her nursing license.  He made a big joke about it, but it didn't take long for things to get worse between him and us when my mom confronted him about it shortly after the graduation party.  While it'd take a few years before he actually did, what had made me uncomfortable before was missed as the walking on egg shells feelings I had grown up with became much more prominent.

So much so, that all of that pent up guilt and pain and shame from everything I had endured or seen my mom go through led me to nearly throwing myself down the basement stairs one evening.  With a six hundred pound wheelchair strapped to my back, I most likely wouldn't have survived the trip, but I didn't do it.  Partially because I had picked the one time everyone was in the living room for dinner to decide I had had enough, I had emailed my note to my mom I was that determined to go through with it, and left a number of veiled goodbye messages on here and a few other places I was active on.  But while having an audience held me back from the edge, it was remembering that I had fallen down a flight of stairs once before during a Christmas party at my aunt's house a few years ago that really stopped me, especially since while it was completely accidental with how much ice and snow had fallen and they didn't have a ramp so we had to make our own, that the worst I had gotten away with was being shook up and being a little sore afterwards.

He quitting his job though was what prompted the spiral which would eventually lead to me calling the police.  But before that it was verbal abuse towards all of us except Craig who simply didn't truly understand why our dad was acting like this.  Cyle we're sure he filled his head with all kinds of shit about our mother, me he tried the same but I knew better, having grown up with it all.  But for all that experience, I still doubted what I thought I knew about her, if only for a few minutes after one particularly loud exchange one late evening.  That alone shames me more than anything else, that even knowing what I did, that he could make me question what should have been obvious.  It got to the point that he once more physically accosted my mother, this time in full view of our nurses for both myself and Craig since he had his tracheotomy put in shortly after he was born.  To make it worse, he decided to take a bunch of pills and chased it down with a bunch of alcohol in an effort to get mom to start doing what he wanted from her again.  It didn't workoutis attempt to 'kill himself' nor his ploy to make things return to how he wanted them.

Shortly after that he moved out to live with my aunt and uncle and their kids.  I say moved out, but I don't think he was given much of a choice between her and our remaining friends and family.  Shortly after that he started coming around the house, but while he made an effort to disguise it, he wasn't interested in trying to patch things up between us.  He simply wanted to be in control again, but with the support of our friends and those same nurses that are also very close to us all, (it's impossible to work in home health and not get close to the patient and their family), mom kept him from coming back.  Which inevitably led to him trying to kick the door in.

Despite the fact he went to jail for violating the order of protection she had since had put on him, he was let out earlier this very year.  He hasn't shown up at the house or has tried to contact us directly, but we know he's asked about us from various people we know.  Cyle, my brother, is currently a high school dropout and a pot head to boot that has a number if emotional issues from all of this.  Craig is mostly fine, at least we hope so, but with his Autism we're just not all that certain.  My mom's doing much better, but she still has trouble sleeping from everything, which can be expected I'm sure.  As for me, I'm doing alright, but I still have my own problems, my health notwithstanding.  I will admit though, I can still hear some of the shit he used to say to everyone, the accusations, the insults, and I still have trouble believing I can accomplish much of anything.  And asking for help?  I nearly failed to graduate high school, and I did fail college, twice, because I couldn't appear weaker than I've always been even though I was drowning.

Being the victim of abuse sucks.  The only advice I can reasonably give is don't let it go on.  Find a way to get help, even if you don't think you deserve it or think no one will listen.  And even once the direct abuse ends, it's not over as you then have to figure out how to live without the pressure and the strain dictating your every action.  Take it one day at a time, advice I should take to heart better than I've been doing

[persephone325]

Like Vergil, I haven't read every single post in this thread. So, I apologize if this has been touched on already.

I've kinda stalked this blog since I saw it, but didn't feel like it was my place to post anything. When I hear "domestic violence", my mind automatically goes to "husband beating his wife". I never thought of anything else. Until I got a little older and gained some perspective.

Growing up, my dad was the more strict one and my mom was the more lenient one. Talked back? Dad smacked your cheek, mom just scolded you. As my brother and I got a little older, it escalated from smacks to full on beatings with a belt. My dad was a military man, so that should tell you something right there. I remember one particularly bad incident.

My dad had gotten a PalmPilot at some point. (Kudos to you if you know what it is.) He gave us strict instructions to never touch it. One day, I had to grab something off the counter but dad's PalmPilot was on top of it. Being the little kid I was, and trying to follow instructions, I tried to pull the thing out from under the Pilot. But, it fell to the floor and the batteries came out. >.< I quickly put them back in and put the thing back on the counter. Later that day, dad booted it up and about half the data was lost. I don't know how, but it was. I told him what happened, and holy hell did I get a beating I will never forget. All curled up on the kitchen floor in the fetal position as he just wailed on me with his belt. Mom came home from work a while later to find me a sobbing mess in my bed. She went to rub my back to comfort me, and I just remember screaming. When she pulled up my shirt, my back was covered in bruises. I honestly don't know if she talked to my dad about it or not. To this day, dad doesn't remember the incident...

Fast forward a few years, my parent's marriage was on the rocks. Dad was talking to other women, and mom dealt with everything by drinking. Dad started spending as much time as he could out of the house; leaving my brother and I to fend for ourselves. Once my brother got a job, it was just me and my drunk mother. I remember shutting myself in my room for hours until someone would come home. Mom would get really angry and aggressive, telling me it was my fault that they got a divorce and that I shouldn't have been born. I was depressed all the time, turned to hurting myself, and was just barely able to graduate high school. One night, she was particularly angry with me. We were fighting in the kitchen, and she grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer and pointed it at my chest. I remember her saying "If you don't wanna be here anymore, then do something about it.", then put the knife in my hand and walked away. She tried to strangle me a couple different times, pulled out a small clump of my hair, and hit me with her car. She doesn't remember most of those incidents...

It wasn't until I went to counseling, that my therapist said that I was the victim of domestic violence; just not in the traditional way that everyone thinks about. I was like "No...I can't be. That's only something that happens to married people!" But, she was right. I love my therapist. She's so great and super nice. She helped me through a lot of hard times. But, I digress.

I'm not sure how to end this post. Haha. Um... I guess just thank you both, Seren and Shooter. <3 <3

[Dys Astyr]

I haven't read through all the posts, I just... I can't do it.

I just want to tell everyone - never assume someone you know is too strong to be in an abusive situation.

For the love of everything if you have even the smallest suspicion, the faintest intuitive inkling, err on the side of caution. Please. Please. Make a fool out of yourself and laugh with that person over it later. Looking a little foolish is better than finding out too late that you were right.

[rhev]

I met the woman who was to become my wife about 3 years after she got out of a very abusive relationship with a man who self medicated his mental disorders with booze and cocaine.  I thank god she had such a strong father figure and good upbringing that she was finally able to realize the mental, physical, and emotional hell that her scumbag boyfriend had trapped her in.  She tells me about it from time to time, though she doesn't like talking about it.  Everything was great for years, but things changed as he slowly wore her down until she realized one day she'd hidden in the closet when she'd heard his car pulling in the driveway.  She'd broken a dish while washing them, and knew he'd be furious when he got home.  So as she huddled in a dark closet in a guest room behind clothing, the realization hit her what was happening, and after he fell asleep  (well passed out I guess) she just snuck out, got the fuck out of there.  She only went back to get her things, only met with him in public after that, and even went to the cops and talked to them about how scared he was of her now ex boyfriend.  I guess, being a small town, one of the sheriffs went over there and talked to him, but nothing legal ever came of it.  Basically they said if he ever went near her then they'd get involved.  Since she didn't tell the sheriff about the cocaine, that was her 'trump' card?  I'm not 100% sure, as I said, she doesn't talk about it much, even after 8+ years of marriage.

Anyways, the reason I mention all of this is because she said there were so many times where she thought to herself that things were getting bad, but she just let it slide.  He'd hit her and at first she thought she was doing something wrong.  Or she'd forgive him.  Or she was too scared, or too embarrassed, or ashamed.  It wasn't until she was literally hiding in a guest bedroom closet, with spare blankets over her, sweltering and listening to him tromp through the house, worried he might find her and literally kill her, that she finally understood she had to get out of there.  No one should ever put up with a tenth of what my wife put up with from that psychopath.  If you know anyone who you think is in even a bit of this kind of trouble, if you think they need help, do something.  If my wife hadn't had such loving family members and a few good friends that made her escape from that hell possible.... well I shudder to think.

[Cynadea]

There are some things in my life that I wished I would have seen  sooner. This is going to be long, because it's not just one relationship. It's a history.

At 14 years old, I was with a group that actively worked to prevent suicide in teenagers. I had already had one on and off boyfriend who usually got me on board to give it another shot because he told me that if he did not get me back he would off himself. I was self-confident, thought I had a solid grasp of my worth and my self-esteem. I was strong enough to get on that stage and share my experience.

I cut ties with this guy after he gave me a specific date by which if he did not have me again, he would kill himself.

He's still alive today.

15 years old. Meet a guy at a party. He's heart broken, cried when the song he and his ex loved came on. You know, regular teenage drama. Three weeks later, we're together. The relationship has it's ups and downs. I wouldn't consider it abusive, but it wasn't healthy. I always was a bit chubby, but I'm also not built delicate. Over the course of 2 years, the guy was sleeping around behind my back, he would call and say he was gonna visit but never showed up. I would learn later that he had met his cousin and gone with him instead. At some point, he left me for my best friend and when I asked him why he was doing this after 2 years together, he said that it was because I wasn't all that pretty.

Faith in love, and self-image took a bit of a hit. I had my revenge, I introduced said "best friend" to a guy I knew she wouldn't be able to resist. It worked. When he came back to me, trying to get back together, I said I didn't love him anymore, and that he wasn't all that pretty either.

The "not really pretty" comment stuck with me, wounding my self-image confidence.

17 years old. Tough year. My father decided that he had had enough of my woman-child mother. Meet this guy in school, let's call him Jay, he's super nice. Everyone sees that he's a loser that would amount to no good, but not me. He treats me well, the world his all right, bright and shiny. Spring comes, I talk with my parents about living arrangement comes summer, and I panic. My mother is moving out of the house, I can't get along with the asshole she calls her boyfriend, so she doesn't want me at her place. My father thought I'd be living with my mom, and has invited his sister and his mom to come live with him: I have no room. 17 years old, on my last year of high school and I have to find myself a job.

I'm convinced today that my dad was not kicking me in the streets, that he would have told his mom and sister to keep their apartment if I had not stormed off in my emotional state.

I dropped out of high school to work. Without high school, jobs are not paying much. Paying an apartment and all that comes with it on a donut shop clerk salary alone... Let's just say that I ate a lot of "old" donut, and put on a couple of pounds during that time. The relationship with the boyfriend is doing decent. His mother pisses me off on a regular basis, because she doesn't stop hovering. It also bugs me a little that Jay sits on his ass all day, eating chips and playing videogames. Using my hard-earned money to rent said videogames a week at a time so he could finish them before returning them to the store.

The relationship, which lasted 26 months, declined slowly. He starts showing signs of anger when I prod him into making something of his life, or at least earning enough money to cover his videogame addiction. Instead, he finds new ways to have fun. He discovers a tabletop group in our area, and tries to pull me there. I went twice, and felt that the group was subpar (I had been playing for 5 years with another group then, and this new group focused only on stats, never on specific character personality. It was tedious to me.) When I refused to go, things spiraled out of control. I was accused of thinking myself too good for them, I was good for nothing, I was dumb for not understanding how to play the game their way - I did understand, I didn't like it! - and so on. He started to attack the fact that in spite of not using birth control, I never became pregnant. He was hoping for a child. Part of me was, the other part thought that I already had one right there...

Slowly but surely, the arguments became more and more vehement. Still no kids. We lived with my real best friend at the time, so I could afford rent. He told me time and again to dump the loser, that I deserved better. I thought myself too overweight to find someone else after him, and who would want of someone so dumb and worthless. Weed came into the house, which I refused to pay for. Somehow, he managed to get some and things became more quiet for a while, until he tried to kick the habit after his mother caught him smoking. Anger management issues resurfaced. This all came to a head when I went to get some grocery on a beautiful December morning to learn that my $500 pay was gone in 3 days. I had $10 to my name to pay the overdue electric bill and pay food for 2 weeks. He had bought gifts for his whole family. I came home, told my roommate, jump into an argument with the Jay to question what the hell he was thinking, and he made a move to hit me. I stopped him by saying that if he hit me, he better hit hard because I'd kill him. He replied by saying that I was destructive, and a negative energy in his life, that I was making myself feel better by hurting people and pulling them down, and then he stormed off. It was over. He came back to pack his things.

In retrospect, I believe that he was projecting, that he was throwing insults at me that he felt would apply to him, so that he could bring me down to his level and feel better. Maybe it wasn't even conscious, I wouldn't claim to know.

He was also diagnosed 6 months after the breakup with borderline personality, anxiety and something else that I can't remember. Basically, he was running on raw, heightened emotions all the time.

So at 14 years old, I could stand before a 500 people gathering and talk without feeling nervous, but at 20 years old, I could barely get out of the house, never mind looking people in the eye. That is what psychological abuse did to me. In six years and three relationships that were not healthy, I had taken a hundred pounds and lost faith in being loved completely. I would feel envious and cry when I saw people who seemed to love each other, even on the TV screen. While I did cry, part of me just thought that love was all just make believe. I could not be loved.

After a while I started to work on myself and got to the point of trying for a new relationship. He was my roommate (a girl this time) best buddy. It was a repeat of my 15 year old relationship. Each time I spoke of commitment, like coming to live with his best friend and I, he would call to say he's coming and not show. I broke it off after six months, when he came crawling back, I told him to buzz off, and accused him of being with me just so he could spend time with his best friend, and of having a crush on her... And he didn't deny.

So I decided that I'd stop looking for a real relationship. No one could really be in love with me.

I latched on Internet relationships. It filled my need for attention without having to deal with acceptance of my overweight body. It kept people at a safe distance. I could be someone else, whomever I wanted. I had become a recluse, until my best friend pointed it out to me, and started to help me pull myself out of that hole. I suspect there was depression involved, but 20 years ago it wasn't as well known as it is today or at least bore a lot more stigma and wasn't as advertised.

I did a lot of work on myself. I learned to live alone, took a long hard look in the mirror and decided that it had to stop. My parents' relationship had always been dysfunctional. My father was never violent, but he was very (loudly) vocal about his issues with my mother, and that wasn't what I wanted for myself. Afraid that I might fool myself again, I took self-defense classes. I was aware of my self-destructive ways, of my tendency to fall for the wrong guy, but I decided that it would never get to feel helpless before physical threats.

I met my current husband. It took me a long time to believe that he really did love me. We dated for a year before we got to the feels sharing point. We've been together 18 years this christmas. I have to watch myself, constantly. In spite of his nurturing and loving ways, doubts sometimes creeps about. Or my self-destructive ways make an attempt to sabotage what we have. He knows it, and sees it coming before I do if I slip.

Four years ago, I reconnected with Jay by pure coincidence. He was dating a woman whom I had hung out with before I ever knew him. School buddies, nothing more. I saw the signs in her, saw the effect that he had on her. He loathed that I was speaking with his girl. He was still a loser, willingly on welfare, while I had gone back to school. I was showing him that he had not pulled me down to his level, no matter how hard he tried. It was quite satisfying.

One night, there was frantic knocking at the door. It was his girlfriend. Swollen eye, bloody nose, holding her ribs. He had punched her, pushed her, and kicked her, when she refused to indulge him in his weed habit. I let her in, give her ice, try to talk to her into going to get her ribs checked. She doesn't want to, because questions would be asked that she did not want to answer. Jay shows up at my door, and I'm alone with her, my husband is working. I tell Jay to go to hell, he's not coming in. He goes around the house, comes in through the back door, I meet him in the hallway, determined not to let him get to the wounded woman. He tries to punch me, I duck, and the heel of my hand lands on his nose. I didn't think, it was sheer muscle memory from the self-defense class. I put my (considerable) weight into it, and shove him out the door, before I close it, lock it and call the cops.

The cops who came tried to tell me that I'd save myself a lot of trouble by not pressing charges. I was not happy with them, called their dispatch and requested that someone else be sent to take my statement.

Jay pressed charges against me, claiming that I used excessive force, but by the time we would have met with a judge, he had given my friend one too many beatings, and he was charged with murder. I never had to testify, the charges that I had against him never went to trial. He beat her because she refused to give him a child.

I am barren, I can't become pregnant. I discovered that a few years into my current relationship. How would Jay have reacted when I learned the news if he had been my significant other at the time? That girl beaten to death, it could have been me. That thought still send chills down my spine.

[Lynnie]

After reading all of these and looking back on my life and realizing up until ten years ago when I met and fell in love with the most wonderful man in the world, I went from one domestic violence relationship to another. Most of it started when I was only four years old. My father went from being a kind, loving, wonderful man to hateful, angry, and condescending to everyone around him.

One of the cousins (father's side of the family) decided that since I was four years old I was the perfect age to be molested. I had ran to my mom crying with blood running down my legs because this cousin managed to destroy my hymen at that age. Sadly it only went downhill from there after a few years, when I turned eight years old I went from looking like a child to looking like a sixteen year old girl. I had large breasts, curves in all the right places, and was having my monthly. My father decided that his wife/my mother was not what he wanted anymore and started to rape me. I have to keep reminding myself that he raped me and just because I didn't fight back, scream, cry, or do anything about it was because this was my daddy and he wouldn't do anything that was wrong...I was completely mistaken. It continued until I actually turn 16. During that time he passed me around to his friends, and well anyone he wanted too.

I managed to tell my mom when I was 16 because I was freaking out because I was pregnant and everyone knew I didn't have a boyfriend. I broke down crying asking no, begging my mom to forgive me for doing this to her. I was so broken and filled with self hate that I thought I had deserved it. Therapy helped me realize that I didn't deserve what he did to me and well I was still depressed. I lived in a bottle hopping from one crappy relationship to the next, one decided I was a lovely punching bag, I stuck with that one until he threatened to kill me, something snapped and I fought back and kicked him out of my life. The next three where all emotionally abusive. They tore me apart, and I went deeper and deeper into the bottle.

I had given up on love and ever being with anyone again except for one night stands. I meet my now husband who helped heal my wounds, mend my heart, and made me into a wonderful woman worthy of love, compassion, and confidence.

[shooter6806]

It’s been a while since I posted in this blog and I thought it might be a good time to talk briefly about a couple of subjects that caught my attention…..

First is the effect that the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic has on family relationships and domestic abuse.  With many people now staying at home, willingly or not, the stress induced by both this enforced closeness and the prospect of the virus itself increases the chances for domestic violence.  Be aware of this and if possible attempt to keep in contact with anyone you know who may be having problems in these unprecedented times.  Here are a couple of links to info about this. 

https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMp2024046

https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/coronavirus/coronavirus-and-domestic-violence-what-you-should-know

Switching gears to a personal subject…..  I recently had the unhappy task of moving my father into assisted living/dementia care, and then saying goodbye to him when he died a while later.  While thankfully he was very well-cared-for in his final days, it brought the subject of elder abuse to my attention as I spoke with relatives of other elderly persons who had been subjected to abuse from either family members or caregivers.  This abuse ranged from mild to horrific.  Going through Alzheimer’s or dementia is terrible enough, for both the victim and the family, but to endure the kinds of abuse that I learned about is an order of magnitude worse.  Again, a link to some info:

https://www.ncoa.org/public-policy-action/elder-justice/elder-abuse-facts/

As always, I invite your comments and questions. 

Stay safe.